.Of  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANCGLfiS 


The  lone  warrior  was  Silverheels 


IN  THE  DAYS 
OF    ST.  GLAIR 

A    'Romance   of  the 
Valley 


BY 


DR.  JAMES  BALL  NAYLOR 

Author  of  "  RALPH  MARLOWB," 
"  THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET,"  etc. 


ILLUSTRATED    BY  W.   H.    FRY 


AKRON,    OHIO 

Ghe  Savlfield  Ttibltshing  Co. 

NEW  YORK  1902  CHICAGO 


COPYRIGHT,  1902, 

BY 
THE  SAAI,FIEI,D   PUBLISHING   COMPANY 


MADE    BV 

THE   WERNER    COMPANY 
Mtfton,  OHIO 


2>ebfcatfon 

To  the  memory  of 
the  sturdy  and  courageous  pioneers, 

who  lost  their  lives  in 

the  Big  Bottom  Massacre, 

this  volume  is  respectfully  dedicated. 


2132446 


LIST  OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

The  lone  warrior  was  Silverheels Frontispiece 

Paul  turned  the  beast's  head  a  little  up  stream,  and  en- 
couraged him  by  word  and  caress 89 

Nancy  was  the  only  person  to  offer  armed  resistance ...  279 

The   girl  leaped   forward   and  thrust  the  torch  into  the 

mocking  face  of  the  warrior 394 


CHAPTER  I 

IT  was  the  autumn  of  seventeen  hundred  and 
eighty-nine.  The  morning  sun  stood  tiptoe  on  the 
ramparts  of  the  Blue  Ridge  and  hurled  his  javelins 
into  the  peaceful  valley  of  the  Shenandoah.  Clouds 
of  dun-colored  fog  —  like  smoke  from  a  burning 
city  —  arose  from  the  bosom  of  the  Shenandoah 
itself,  and  floated  lazily  over  the  adjoining  fields  and 
woods.  Rose-colored  beacon  lights  of  dawn  began 
to  appear  upon  the  crest  of  the  Alleghenies ;  and 
here  and  there  along  the  valley  columns  of  blue 
smoke  shot  heavenward,  indicating  that  the  inhabi- 
tants were  astir  and  the  war  of  day  was  on. 

Midway  between  the  dancing  waters  of  the  river 
and  the  foothills,  was  the  Lovelace  mansion ;  and 
upon  its  broad  veranda  stood  a  young  woman.  She 
was  tall  and  queenly.  Her  raven  hair,  soft  and 
silken  in  texture,  was  gathered  in  a  loose  coil  at  the 
back  of  her  head,  and  her  sloe-black  eyes  —  that 
could  harden  and  flash  with  pride  or  anger,  or  sof- 
ten and  glow  with  love  or  pity  —  were  bent  upon  the 
bright  river  several  miles  away.  One  white  and 
shapely  hand  shielded  her  eyes  from  the  slanting 
arrows  of  the  sun,  while  the  other  rested  upon  the 
railing  of  the  veranda.  A  black  gown  of  soft 
woolen  accentuated  the  whiteness  of  her  skin  —  in 

(7) 


8  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

which  there  was  no  hint  of  sallowness  —  and  sway- 
ing in  the  crisp  breeze,  revealed  the  matchless  con- 
tour of  her  limbs.  The  white  neckerchief  that  en- 
circled her  slender  neck  was  folded  upon  her  breast 
and  fastened  with  a  small  brooch  of  gold. 

A  few  moments  she  stood  motionless,  her  gaze 
riveted  upon  the  river,  the  fog  that  overhung  it,  and 
the  distant  range  of  the  Blue  Ridge  that  appeared 
as  a  low-lying  cloud-bank  against  the  brightening 
sky.  Then  she  turned,  and,  walking  to  the  end  of 
the  veranda,  directed  her  attention  toward  the 
stables  at  the  back  of  the  house.  She  smiled  invol- 
untarily as  there  came  to  her  ears : 

"Oh,  Marse  Paull  Marse  Paul!  Fo'  de  Lo'd's 
sake  hurry !" 

She  continued  to  smile  as  she  murmured  to  her- 
self: 

"  The  silly  black !  He  seems  to  be  greatly  excited 
about  something.  What  can  be  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Marse  Paul !  Marse  Paul !  De  bay  filly's  got 
'er  fo'  foot  in  de  manger,  an'  she's  jes'  ramshacklin' 
eb'ryt'ing!" 

The  young  woman  heard  the  excited  tones  of  the 
negro,  the  sound  of  shod  hoofs  upon  the  floor  of  the 
stable,  and  the  crash  of  breaking  planks.  Her  smile 
faded,  and  hard  lines  took  its  place. 

"What's  the  matter  here,  Gumbo?  "  cried  a  cheery 
voice. 

"  Fo'  de  Lo'd,  Marse  Paul,  de  filly's  got  bofe  'er 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  9 

feet  in  de  manger,  an'  I  can't  do  a  t'ing  wid  'er! 
'Deed  an'  dat's  a  fack !  " 

Apparently  the  mare  ceased  her  struggles  and 
stood  still,  for  the  young  woman  heard  no  further 
noise.  Her  harsh  look  gave  way  to  one  of  melting 
tenderness. 

"  Ah,  Paul,  how  I  love  you ! "  she  whispered, 
clasping  her  strong  white  hands  in  front  of  her.  "  I'd 
travel  barefoot  over  red-hot  coals  to  win  you,  were  it 
necessary.  And  you  must  be  mine!  I  have  loved 
you  long !  " 

Her  black  eyes  were  moist  and  her  bosom  was 
heaving  with  emotion.  She  saw  two  horsemen  rid- 
ing from  the  stables  toward  the  house,  and  she  de- 
scended the  steps  to  greet  them.  One  of  the  riders 
was  a  young  man  of  twenty-five  years,  tall,  straight 
and  sinewy.  His  face  was  smooth-shaven  and  his 
brown  hair  fell  in  ringlets  upon  his  shoulders.  His 
laughing  blue  eyes  denoted  a  merry,  good  natured 
disposition,  while  his  square  jaws  and  firm  mouth 
were  indicative  of  high  moral  courage  and  imperious 
will  power.  A  broad-brimmed  soft  hat  surmounted 
his  brown  curls,  and  a  cloak  of  blue  cloth,  fastened 
at  the  neck  with  a  clasp,  fell  about  his  shoulders. 
The  horse  that  he  bestrode  was  a  black  of  fine  form 
and  great  beauty ;  and  he  sat  the  animal  with  the 
easy  grace  of  one  accustomed  to  the  saddle.  His 
companion,  a  middle-aged  negro,  was  mounted  upon 
a  restive,  high-stepping  bay  mare.  A  bullet-pouch 


io  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

and  powder-horn  hung  at  the  slave's  side,  and  a  long 
rifle  rested  upon  the  pummel  of  his  saddle. 

"  Good  morning,  cousin,"  was  Paul  Graydon's 
greeting,  as  he  cantered  up  to  the  fence  and  doffed 
his  hat 

Hester  Lovelace  smiled  winsomely  upon  him,  as 
she  answered : 

"Good  morning — a  most  beautiful  morning  1 
Where  now,  Paul?" 

"  I'm  going  to  join  Isaac  Meeks  in  a  bear-hunt 
among  the  mountain  laurel  bushes,"  returned  the 
young  man,  as  he  reined  in  his  steed  and  patted  its 
glossy  neck. 

A  shade  of  annoyance  swept  over  Hester's  lovely 
features,  but  it  was  gone  as  she  inquired : 

"  What  occasioned  the  uproar  at  the  stables  just 
now?" 

"  Bess  was  indulging  in  one  of  her  tantrums ;  and 
I  suppose  Gumbo  attempted  to  chastise  her,"  he  said 
smiling. 

Miss  Lovelace  looked  very  grave  as  she  asked: 

"  Paul,  don't  you  think  you  are  too  lenient  with 
the  slaves  sometimes  —  especially  with  Gumbo?  " 

"  It  may  be,  Hester,"  he  admitted,  rather  reluct- 
antly, "but  I'm  what  I  am.  I  wasn't  born  for  a 
slave  driver  —  I  don't  like  it.  I'd  rather  lead  than 
drive.  However,  I  shan't  have  it  to  do  for  long." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Paul  ?  "  she  asked,  opening 
her  black  eyes  very  wide. 

"This,  Hester:     I've  eaten  the  bread  of  idleness 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  11 

too  long;  too  long  I've  led  an  aimless  existence. 
My  uncle,  your  kind  father  —  peace  to  his  ashes  — 
gave  me  a  home,  reared  and  educated  me.  I've  no 
right  to  expect  more.  I  must  go  out  into  the  world, 
armed  with  ambition,  energy  and  good  health,  and 
hew  out  a  road  to  success.  I  can't  respect  myself 
fully  until  I've  done  so." 

All  this  he  said  in  a  manly,  decided  way  that  left 
no  shadow  of  doubt  in  regard  to  his  real  intentions. 
Hester  watched  him  narrowly  as  he  spoke,  studying 
his  every  expression  and  gesture.  Her  own  face 
expressed  surprise,  incredulity,  and  downright 
anger  in  turn.  When  he  had  finished  she  asked 
coldly : 

"  Are  you  tired  of  staying  with  us,  Paul?" 
"  Xot  at  all,  Hester,"  he  replied  quickly.     "  You 
know  it's  not  that  —  " 
She  interrupted  him  with : 
"Why  go,  then?" 
"  For  the  reasons  I've  given." 
"  They're  neither  good  nor  sufficient." 
He  looked  at  her  in  surprise  and  began : 
"  I  don't  understand  you,  Hester.     I  —  ** 
Again  she  broke  in  on  him : 

"  Let  me  explain,  cousin.  You  say  that  my  father 
gave  you  a  home,  reared  and  educated  you.  You 
might  have  added  that  he  loved  you  as  his  own  son. 
My  mother  has  been  your  mother,  my  father  has 
been  your  father.  You  and  I  have  been  as  brother  and 
sister.  Now,  when  my  —  our  father  is  dead  and 


12  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

our  mother  is  an  invalid,  when  the  management  of 
the  large  estate  devolves  upon  you  and  me,  you  pro- 
pose to  go  away  and  leave  me  to  bear  the  burden 
alone.  Surely  you've  a  strange  way  of  showing 
gratitude,  Paul." 

Tears  were  in  her  eyes.  Her  voice  was  trembling. 
She  stood  unmasked  before  Paul  Graydon,  but  he 
was  too  blind  to  see.  He  did  not  understand  that 
her  tears  were  tears  of  love  and  mortification  ;  he  did 
not  realize  that  she  had  shown  him  her  woman's 
heart.  Well  as  he  knew  her,  accustomed  as  he  was 
to  all  her  moods,  he  did  not  understand  her  now. 
He  thought  that  her  emotion  had  been  caused  by 
the  mention  of  her  dead  father. 

"  Hester,  I  can't  consent  to  stay  here  much 
longer."  He  spoke  kindly  but  firmly,  u  Don't  mis- 
understand me ;  I'm  not  ungrateful.  You've  been 
very  kind  to  me.  But  when  a  man  reaches  the  age 
of  twenty-five  years,  it  behooves  him  to  think  of  pro- 
curing home  and  substance  for  himself.  The  life 
I'm  leading  here  —  that  of  a  gentleman  of  leisure  — 
is  a  pleasant  one.  But  I'm  accomplishing  nothing. 
You  say  that  if  I  go  away,  I  leave  the  care  of  the 
estate  to  you  alone.  I  don't  flatter  myself  that  you'll 
feel  the  loss  very  greatly.  You  can  readily  obtain  a 
better  overseer.  As  you've  said,  I'm  too  easy  with 
the  field-hands  and  servants." 

Hester  Lovelace  strove  with  conflicting  emotions. 
She  loved  her  handsome  cousin.  Her  passion  was 
one  of  slow  growth  but  overmastering  power.  She 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  13 

had  no  idea  of  giving  him  up  —  of  permitting  him  to 
go  out  into  the  world  beyond  her  influence.  She 
was  angry  that  he  had  not  understood  her.  Yet  she 
was  ashamed  to  put  her  meaning  in  plainer  lan- 
guage. Did  Paul  love  her  as  she  loved  him?  She 
did  not  know  —  she  scarcely  dared  to  think.  A 
happy  thought  came  to  her.  She  was  rich,  Paul 
was  poor.  Perhaps  that  was  the  reason  he  had 
never  spoken  of  love.  She  would  make  one  more 
effort.  She  leaned  across  the  low  fence  of  white- 
washed palings,  and  smoothed  his  horse's  glossy 
coat,  as  she  said  in  a  low,  intense  tone : 

"  You  shan't  entertain  such  ideas  for  a  moment. 
Father's  dead,  mother's  an  invalid.  This  vast  prop- 
erty will  soon  be  yours  and  mine.  There's  enough 
for  you  and  me  both.  There's  no  excuse  for  your 
going,  Paul." 

He  drew  himself  up  proudly :  "  Hester  — 
cousin,  do  you  think  me  base  enough  to  rob  you  of 
your  own  ?  " 

"If  you  don't  accept  what  I  offer  —  offer  you 
with  all  my  heart,  you  do  rob  me,  indeed !  " 

There  was  a  world  of  meaning  in  her  tone,  and 
her  black  eyes  turned  full  upon  him.  Something 
of  the  truth  flashed  through  his  mind;  but  he  cast 
the  thought  aside  as  unworthy. 

"  Rob  you  by  leaving  you?  "  he  ejaculated,  gazing 
into  her  upturned  face. 

"  Yes." 

"Of  what  Hester?" 


I4  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R 

"Of  yourself!" 

He  could  misunderstand  her  no  longer.  Her  face 
and  neck  were  suffused  with  hot  blushes,  as  she 
dropped  her  head  and  tapped  the  earth,  with  her 
slippered  foot.  Paul  Graydon  was  greatly  embar- 
rassed. He  shifted  his  position  in  the  saddle,  and 
nervously  knotted  the  rein  in  his  hand.  He  regard- 
ed Hester  as  a  sister,  and  he  loved  her  —  but  not 
in  the  sense  that  she  loved  him.  He  laughed  un- 
easily —  a  forced,  artificial  laugh ;  and  attempted  to 
speak,  but  his  voice  stuck  in  his  throat.  His  words 
sounded  hollow  and  insincere,  as  he  said : 

"  You'll  not  miss  me  greatly,  Hester.  You'll  be 
lonely  for  a  time,  no  doubt ;  we've  been  long  togeth- 
er. But  time  heals  all  wounds.  I  must  get  me  to 
Isaac  Meek's  house,  however,  or  hell  grow  weary 
of  waiting  and  start  upon  the  hunt,  alone." 

She  thought  that  he  had  misinterpreted  her  lan- 
guage, and  quickly  recovered  her  composure;  for 
she  was  humiliated  that  she  had  laid  bare  her  heart 
before  him.  She  must  say  something.  Already  he 
was  gathering  up  the  reins.  With  a  miserable  at- 
tempt at  a  smile,  she  asked : 

"  Why  do  you  associate  with  Isaac  Meeks,  Paul  ? 
He's  far  beneath  you." 

He  was  pleased  and  relieved  that  she  had  aban- 
doned the  subject  of  their  conversation,  and  an- 
swered readily  and  carelessly : 

"  I  don't  regard  him  as  an  associate  or  friend, 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R  15 

Hester.  He  appears  to  be  an  honest,  good-natured 
fellow,  and  is  a  skillful  guide  and  hunter." 

"  Is  that  all  the  interest  you  have  in  him  or  his 
family?" 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  and  became  aware  that 
she  yas  keenly  scrutinizing  him. 

"  Yes;  that  is  all." 

She  said  not  another  word,  but  continued  to  look 
him  full  in  the  face. 

"  Why  do  you  ask  ?  "  he  inquired,  slightly  irritated 
at  her  manner. 

"  You're  more  interested  in  the  fair  Marie,  than 
in  her  uncle,"  was  her  unexpected  rejoinder. 

Paul's  face  flushed,  and  he  could  not  look  her  in 
the  eyes. 

"  Hester !  "  was  all  that  he  could  say. 

She  clapped  her  hands  and  laughed  a  harsh,  grat- 
ing laugh. 

"  You  stand  convicted !  "  she  cried. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  managed  to  inquire. 

"  That  you  love  Marie  Fontanelle !  I've  long  sus- 
pected it;  now  you've  told  me.  So  you  wish  to  go 
out  into  the  world,  to  build  a  nest  for  your  gay  bird. 
It  yould  be  cruel  in  me  to  hinder  you !  "  And  a 
faint  sneer  curled  her  thin  lips. 

"  I've  not  said  I  mean  to  marry  Miss  Fontanelle," 
he  replied  coldly. 

"  You've  said  that  you  love  her." 

"Hester!    When?" 

"  Just  now.    Your  face  told  what  your  tongue  re- 


16  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R 

fused  to  tell.  You  love  her  —  what  matter?  It's 
naught  to  me  that  you  mean  to  ruin  your  life  by 
marrying  a  French  woman.  Go  —  go  to  her !  She 
is  waiting  for  you  —  she  of  the  noble  pedigree !  A 
slattern  Meeks  for  her  mother,  and  a  French  trader 
for  her  father !  " 

She  was  beside  herself  with  rage  and  shame. 
Seeing  that  neither  explanation  nor  argument  would 
prove  availing,  he  gathered  up  the  reins  and,  dash- 
ing the  spurs  into  his  steed,  galloped  from  her  sight. 
She  watched  him  with  dry  eyes  until  he  disappeared 
at  the  turn  of  the  road.  Then  she  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands  and  wept  silently. 


CHAPTER  II 

T""  HE  fog  had  lifted  from  the  river,  and  the  sun  was 
•*•  climbing  the  eastern  arc  of  the  heavens.  The 
negroes  were  singing  and  working  in  the  tobacco 
fields.  To  the  right  and  to  the  left  of  the  mansion, 
half-naked  pickaninnies  were  gamboling  and  laugh- 
ing in  the  warm  sunshine.  A  restless  catbird 
squawked  and  complained  over  the  advent  of 
autumn,  as  it  hopped  from  limb  to  limb  of  the  quince 
bush  in  the  corner  of  the  garden.  The  shaggy 
watchdog  —  toothless,  old  and  feeble  —  trotted  to 
her  side,  and,  raising  his  gray  muzzle,  begged  for  a 
caress.  But  Hester  heard  and  saw  nothing.  At 
last,  with  slow  footsteps,  she  entered  the  house. 

The  Lovelace  plantation  included  some  of  the  best 
farming  and  grazing  lands  in  the  valley  of  the  Shen- 
andoah  —  "the  garden  spot  of  Virginia,"  It  con- 
sisted of  several  thousand  acres  of  hill  and  bottom, 
and  stretched  from  the  foothills  of  the  Alleghenies 
to  within  a  few  miles  of  the  river. 

The  mansion  —  if  it  merited  so  dignified  a  name 
—  was  large  and  rambling.  It  had  been  builded 
piecemeal.  Originally  a  double  hewed-log  house  of 
two  stories,  the  outside  had  later  on  been  weather- 
boarded,  and  from  time  to  time  additions  had  been 
2  (17) 


i8  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

made  to  it,  as  the  needs  or  fancy  of  its  owner  dictat- 
ed. It  was  unpainted  and  weatherstained.  Its  im- 
mense whitewashed  chimneys  of  undressed  stone, 
on  the  outside  of  the  structure,  were  in  strange  and 
glaring  contrast  to  its  gray  exterior.  A  low,  broad 
veranda  extended  along  two  sides  of  the  house,  and 
stone  steps  led  down  to  the  flag-paved  walks.  Back 
of  the  residence  were  the  stables  and  other  outbuild- 
ings ;  and  to  the  right  and  to  the  left  of  it  —  scat- 
tered along  the  country  highway  —  were  the  negro 
quarters. 

The  interior  of  the  mansion  was  suggestive  of  the 
birthplace  of  its  original  owner.  The  polished 
oaken  floors,  the  wide  and  deep  fireplaces,  the 
smoke-stained  joists  and  wainscotings,  the  cumbrous 
carved  funiture,  and  the  heavy  brass  andirons  and 
candlesticks,  gave  the  impression  of  an  English 
country-house  of  the  period. 

George  Lovelace,  Hester's  father,  was  the  young- 
er son  of  an  English  nobleman.  At  the  age  of  twen- 
ty-seven he  married,  and  with  money  inherited  from 
his  mother's  estate  he  came  to  America  to  seek  his 
fortune.  He  bought  this  tract  of  land  in  the  Shen- 
andoah  valley,  and  cleared  and  improved  the  estate. 
Here  Hester,  the  only  child,  was  born  twenty-three 
years  before  the  opening  of  our  story.  Several 
years  after  her  birth,  Mr.  Lovelace  went  to  Eng- 
land ;  and  on  his  return  brought  back  with  him  his 
dead  sister's  son,  Paul  Graydon.  The  "bonnie 
English  laddie,"  as  his  uncle  lovingly  called  him, 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  19 

found  a  place  in  his  aunt's  motherly  heart,  became 
the  baby  Hester's  constant  companion  and  playmate, 
and  waxed  fair  and  lusty  under  the  genial  Virginia 
skies. 

As  has  been  said,  Paul  and  Hester  were  insepar- 
able from  the  day  of  his  arrival.  As  children,  they 
romped  and  frolicked  about  the  gray  mansion;  a 
little  older  grown,  they  explored  the  fields  and 
woods  together ;  and  not  until  he  had  reached  young 
manhood  and  she  young  womanhood,  were  they 
ever  long  apart. 

Then  he  went  to  college  in  New  England,  while 
she  stayed  at  home  under  the  instruction  of  a  private 
teacher.  When  he  returned  after  graduating,  they 
promptly  resumed  their  old  relationship.  Both 
were  strong-willed  and  imperious  —  both  English 
to  the  core  —  and  the  clash  of  steel  on  steel  was  not 
an  infrequent  occurrence.  When  the  battle  ceased, 
however,  the  participants  were  better  friends  than 
before.  One  gave  ground  and  yielded  the  contested 
point  as  frequently  as  the  other ;  and  after  each  en- 
counter, each  had  the  good  sense  to  refrain  from 
mentioning  the  cause  of  their  wordy  duel,  or  the  re- 
sult of  it. 

As  the  years  passed,  Paul's  love  for  Hester  grew 
stronger  —  but  it  was  the  protecting  love  of  a  broth- 
er. Not  so  with  her  love  for  him.  It  underwent  a 
change  —  a  wonderful  transformation.  At  first, 
she  was  barely  aware  of  it.  She  felt  that  Paul  was 
nearer  and  dearer  to  her  than  ever  before,  that  the 


20 


I.\  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 


.skies  were  bluer  and  the  flowers  fairer  for  his  pres- 
ence —  and  that  she  was  unhappy  when  he  was  ab- 
sent. Then  she  realized  that  she  grew  jealous  if  an- 
other woman  —  especially  if  the  woman  were  young 
and  beautiful  —  showed  even  a  passing  interest  in 
him.  \Yhat  did  it  all  mean?  She  propounded  the 
question  to  herself  many  times.  At  last  the  startling 
truth  flashed  upon  her  that  she  regarded  her  hand- 
some cousin  as  a  lover. 

From  that  time  onward  she  looked  upon  Paul  as 
her  future  husband.  She  did  not  stop  to  ask  if  he 
loved  her  —  had  not  he  been  kind  and  loving  al- 
ways? Of  course  he  would  ask  her  to  be  his  wife 
sometime.  Not  until  her  cousin  began  to  go  upon 
frequent  hunts  with  Isaac  Meeks,  and  to  spend  days 
away  from  her,  did  she  begin  to  question  the  charac- 
ter of  his  love. 

On  an  ill-fated  day  she  met  Marie  Fontanelle, 
Isaac  Meeks's  niece,  and  was  surprised  at  the  girl's 
almost  angelic  beauty,  so  different  from  her  own. 
Paul  frequently  went  to  the  Meeks  place.  Had  he 
fallen  in  love  with  the  dainty  forest  flower?  She 
trembled  with  apprehension.  Was  this  French  girl 
—  this  daughter  of  an  adventurous  trader  —  to  take 
from  her  all  the  sunshine  of  existence?  She  would 
not  permit  it  —  and  she  stamped  her  little  foot  in 
ragei 

From  that  time  forward,  she  exercised  even-  pow- 
er to  win  and  keep  her  cousin.  She  was  a  fascinat- 
ing woman,  and  she  knew  it.  She  bent  all  her  ener- 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  21 

gies  to  her  task.  She  welcomed  him  home  with  a 
smile,  and  sped  him  on  his  journey  with  a  lingering 
caress.  She  consulted  him  in  everything,  and  did 
her  best  to  make  him  understand  that  he  was  neces- 
sary to  her  very  existence.  She  read  to  him,  she 
dressed  to  please  him.  But  she  failed  to  hold  him. 
Slowly  but  surely  he  drifted  away  from  her. 

She  could  not  stand  that.  She  grew  jealous  and 
unhappy.  She  vented  her  displeasure  upon  the  un- 
offending slaves ;  was  moody  and  silent  in  the  pres- 
ence of  her  mother ;  and  at  times  treated  Paul  in  a 
cold  and  distant  manner.  Paul,  blind  to  everything 
but  his  love  for  Marie  Fontanelle,  scarcely  noticed 
Hester's  changed  demeanor.  He  treated  her,  as  he 
had  always  done,  with  courtesy  and  respect ;  showed 
her  the  same  attentive  kindness  and  felt  for  her  the 
same  old  brotherly  love.  All  this  was  just  what  she 
did  not  want.  She  grew  desperate,  and,  on  the 
morning  that  opens  our  story,  unmasked  her  heart 
to  him. 

When  Hester  entered  the  house,  after  Paul's  de- 
parture, she  found  her  mother  half  reclining  upon  a 
stiff-backed  sofa  in  front  of  the  white  hearth.  The 
sun  was  warm  without,  but  within  the  air  would 
have  been  cool,  had  it  not  been  for  the  bright  fire 
that  blazed  in  the  wide  fireplace.  Caroline  Lovelace 
was  a  pale,  white-haired  woman,  whose  face  — 
drawn  and  seamed  with  the  indelible  lines  of  great 
suffering  —  still  showed  traces  of  former  beauty. 
She  was  tall,  thin  and  worn ;  and  the  white  hands 


22  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

that  lay  listlessly  in  her  lap  had  a  semi-transparent 
appearance.  She  was  gazing  into  the  depths  of  the 
gentle  blaze  with  a  far-away  look  in  her  dark  eyes. 
Glancing  up  —  as  her  daughter  drew  a  chair  toward 
the  fire  —  she  asked : 

"Where  have  you  been,  child?  You  look  blue 
and  cold." 

"Out  on  the  front  veranda,"  Hester  answered, 
without  looking  at  her  mother. 

"  You're  shivering  —  are  you  sick  ?  "  Mrs.  Love- 
lace inquired,  with  concern. 

"  I'm  not  sick  "  —  The  answer  came  in  a  cold,  in- 
flexible tone  —  "  but  I  don't  feel  very  well.  Please 
don't  talk  to  me,  mother." 

"Hester,  what's  the  matter?  You're  sick  —  I 
know  you  are.  Don't  be  afraid  of  alarming  me ;  tell 
me  what  ails  you." 

"  Mother,  I'm  not  sick  —  I  wish  that  I  were  —  I 
wish  that  I  could  die !  I'm  tired  —  tired  of  life !  " 

"  Hester  Lovelace !  "  was  all  that  her  mother  could 
exclaim,  as  she  slowly  and  feebly  arose  to  a  sitting 
posture.  She  looked  at  her  daughter  in  silence  for 
some  time ;  but  Hester  did  not  deign  to  reply. 

"  My  child,  don't  you  know  that  it's  very  wicked 
to  talk  as  you've  been  doing?  " 

Hester  could  restrain  herself  no  longer.  She 
turned  upon  her  parent,  and  in  a  tornado  of  passion 
cried: 

"  Mother,  I  know  nothing  of  the  kind  1  It's  not 
wicked  to  tell  the  truth ;  and  I  am  tired  of  life  —  for 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  23 

I've  nothing  left  to  live  for.  You  don't  know  — 
you  can't  know  —  what  I  feel !  Oh,  I'm  so  unhappy 
—  so  miserably  unhappy !  " 

She  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  while  her  form 
shook.  Mrs.  Lovelace  was  puzzled  and  alarmed. 
She  had  noticed  for  some  time  that  Hester  was  not 
herself ;  but  she  had  never  seen  her  give  way  to  such 
a  storm  of  passion.  They  were  very  like,  this  moth- 
er and  daughter.  Each  was  willful  and  self-reliant ; 
neither  was  of  a  confiding  disposition.  For  this  rea- 
son they  had  never  known  the  intimate  relationship 
that  had  existed  between  daughter  and  father.  Mrs. 
Lovelace  did  not  know  of  Hester's  love  for  Paul, 
and  was  at  a  loss  to  account  for  her  strange  be- 
havior. Now  she  said,  as  she  wearily  sank  back 
upon  the  cushions : 

"  Come  here,  dear  —  I  can't  come  to  you !  Come 
and  tell  me  your  troubles;  perhaps  I  can  help  and 
comfort  you." 

Hester  had  partly  recovered  her  composure ;  and, 
apparently,  was  coldly  indifferent  to  her  mother's 
appeal.  Her  indifference  was  assumed,  however. 
She  felt  that  she  must  tell  some  one  —  and  the  kind, 
indulgent  father  to  whom  she  had  always  gone  was 
dead.  She  hesitated. 

Mrs.  Lovelace  went  on : 

"  Come,  dear !  Your  father's  gone  now,  and  you 
must  make  a  confident  of  me.  We've  not  been  to 
each  other  what  we  should  have  been.  Let  us  start 
anew  and  aright.  I,  too,  have  something  that's 


24  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

worrying  me  very  much  —  something  that  I  want 
to  tell  you.  Come,  dear !  " 

She  held  out  her  arms  toward  her  daughter,  and 
said  this  last  pleadingly.  Hester's  heart  was 
touched.  Was  her  patient,  long-suffering  mother  in 
trouble,  too?  The  young  woman  burst  into  tears, 
and  dropping  upon  her  knees  beside  the  sofa  hid  her 
face  in  her  mother's  lap.  Mrs.  Lovelace  gently  and 
caressingly  stroked  the  girl's  dark  hair,  until  the 
latter  ceased  her  weeping,  and,  looking  up  with  a 
half  smile,  inquired: 

"What  is  it,  mother?" 

"  You  want  to  know  what  troubles  me  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Tell  me  first  of  your  own  troubles,  dear  child. 
You're  so  changed  —  you're  not  your  old  self." 

"  Tell  me  first,  mother ;  you  know  how  hard  it  is 
for  me  to  confide." 

"  Well,"  replied  Mrs.  Lovelace,  slowly,  "  take  a 
seat  here,  Hester,  and  let's  talk  calmly.  We  can 
help  and  comfort  each  other,  perhaps.  I'm  failing 
and  must  leave  you  alone  soon." 

The  daughter  raised  her  hand  deprecatingly,  but 
the  mother  paid  no  heed. 

"I'm  much  concerned  about  your  future,  and 
would  see  you  well  married  and  settled  in  life  before 
I  die.  Your  cousin  Paul's  a  clean  and  honorable 
young  man,  and  you've  known  each  other  intimately 
for  years.  You'll  need  some  one  to  help  you  in  the 
management  of  the  estate.  Who  could  assist  you 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  25 

so  well  as  Paul  ?  I  feel  confident  he  loves  you,  Hes- 
ter, and  that  in  the  near  future  he'll  ask  you  to  be  his 
wife.  I  used  to  think  you  loved  him,  child;  and 
was  happy  in  the  thought  that  he  whom  I've  regard- 
ed as  a  son  would  be  my  son  indeed.  But,  of  late, 
I've  thought  you  don't  love  him  as  a  woman  should 
love  the  man  she  marries.  It  was  your  dear  father's 
wish  that  Paul  should  be  your  husband,  Hester.  Is 
the  thought  unwelcome  to  you  ?  " 

Hester  was  astonished  at  her  mother's  want  of 
discernment.  She  could  have  laughed  aloud  in 
scorn.  She  burst  forth: 

"  Mother,  you're  blind  —  blind !  What  but  my 
love  for  Paul  has  been  burning  as  a  consuming  fire 
within  me,  for  months  ?  What  but  my  love  for  him 
has  caused  me  to  treat  him  as  I  have  ?  I  am  almost 
crazed  with  grief  and  humiliation,  for  he  does  not 
love  me.  He  loves  another !  " 

Mrs.  Lovelace  stared  hard  at  her  daughter. 
"  Hester,  is  this  true  —  do  you  love  Paul  ?  " 

"  Haven't  I  told  you,  mother?  " 

"  And  he  loves  another  ?  " 

"  It's  true." 

"Her  name,  Hester?" 

"  Marie  Fontanelle." 

"  Who's  Marie  Fontanelle,  pray  ?  " 

"  A  niece  of  Isaac  Meeks,  the  hunter,  who  lives  up 
in  the  foothills." 

"  A  coarse  and  vulgar  backwoods  wench !  " 

"  Far  from  it,  mother !     She  is  lovely,  but  she 


26  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

comes  of  plebian  stock.  Her  mother  was  a  Meeks 
—  poor,  illiterate  whites  —  and  her  father,  an  adven- 
turous French  trader.  But  what  matters  her  origin  ? 
Paul's  infatuated  with  her ;  and  talks  of  leaving  us 
and  going  out  into  the  world,  to  seek  his  fortune." 

Hester  spoke  in  a  hopeless  tone  that  went  straight 
to  her  mother's  heart.  Mrs.  Lovelace  closed  her 
dark  eyes,  until  they  looked  like  two  black  slits  in 
the  whiteness  of  her  face,  compressed  her  pale  lips 
and  asked : 

"  How  do  you  know  all  this,  Hester?  " 

"  I've  picked  it  out  of  Paul,  bit  by  bit.  This  morn- 
ing I  surprised  him,  by  accusing  him  of  loving  her ; 
and  his  face  revealed  the  secret.  It's  too  true, 
mother ! " 

Caroline  Lovelace's  face  was  a  study.  Little  by 
little  the  look  of  habitual  calm  forsook  it,  as  the  tem- 
pest gathered.  Rage  corrugated  her  brows;  and 
from  her  eyes  flashed  an  indomitable  will  that 
brooked  no  opposition. 

"  The  beggar ! "  she  hissed  between  her  set  teeth. 
"  How  dare  he  flout  you,  my  daughter,  with  the 
blood  of  English  peers  in  your  veins  and  with  your 
rich  dowry  ?  The  dolt !  to  go  daft  over  the  insipid 
beauty  of  a  half-breed  French  huzzy !  Has  he  no 
memory  for  all  he  owes  to  us?  He  scorns  your 
love !  Very  well,  we  shall  see !  Leave  it  all  to  me, 
child ;  he  shall  be  yours.  I  think  that  I  shall  have 
no  trouble  in  bringing  him  to  his  senses  —  and  to 
your  feet.  Bah,  the  fool !  " 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  27 

Hester  Lovelace's  face  brightened.  She  saw  that 
she  had  an  earnest  and  powerful  ally  in  her  mother. 
The  younger  woman  bent  down  and  kissed  the  up- 
turned face.  And  in  the  compact  sealed  by  that  kiss 
was  a  world  of  trouble  for  Paul  Graydon  and  Marie 
Fontanelle. 


CHAPTER  III 

PAUL  overtook  Gumbo  at  the  turn  of  the  road; 
and  together  they  cantered  forward  at  a  brisk 
pace.  The  sunshine  was  warm  and  genial ;  the  air 
was  crisp  and  clear.  It  was  one  of  those  rare  autumn 
mornings  that  bring  the  glow  of  health  to  the  in- 
valid's cheek  and  make  the  blood  dance  and  tingle  in 
the  veins  of  the  healthy.  Paul  rode  with  bent  head 
and  downcast  eyes,  giving  little  heed  to  the  beauties 
of  the  morning.  He  was  engrossed  with  his  own 
thoughts  —  and  bitter  enough  they  were.  He  re- 
alized at  last  that  his  haughty  cousin  looked  upon 
him  as  a  lover ;  and  he  realized  as  fully  that  for  him 
the  world  held  but  one  woman  —  and  that  woman 
was  little  Marie  Fontanelle. 

His  horse  stumbled,  and  Paul,  riding  with 
loosened  rein,  almost  lost  his  seat.  Mechanically  he 
pulled  up  the  black  steed ;  but  his  reverie  was  un- 
broken. 

Gumbo  was  an  observant,  quick-witted  fellow, 
and  he  noticed  his  young  master's  mental  abstrac- 
tion. The  negro  had  been  Paul's  body  servant  ever 
since  the  latter's  arrival  in  America.  At  that  time, 
Mr.  Lovelace  said :  "  Gumbo,  this  is  your  young 
master ;  see  that  you  take  good  care  of  him.  Paul, 
(28) 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  29 

Gumbo  is  your  servant ;  if  he  doesn't  obey  you,  let 
me  know  —  and  I'll  have  him  flogged." 

But  no  flogging  did  Gumbo  ever  receive  through 
Paul's  tale-bearing.  On  the  contrary,  the  fair- 
skinned  lad  saved  the  dark-skinned  one's  back  from 
many  a  blow.  The  servant  was  ten  years  older  than 
his  master.  Paul  soon  learned  to  love  the  intelli- 
gent, obedient  slave;  and  the  latter  worshipped  the 
English  boy,  in  a  way  that  was  little  short  of  idol- 
atry, and  served  him  with  dog-like  fidelity. 

In  the  presence  of  others,  Gumbo  always  showed 
Paul  the  respectful  deference  that  was  his  due.  But 
when  alone,  the  two  chatted  and  laughed  in  an  un- 
dignified way  that  was  quite  shocking  to  Hester  — 
if  she  chanced  to  come  upon  them.  As  the  years 
passed,  Gumbo  regarded  Paul  as  the  wisest  of  men, 
and  honored  him  accordingly ;  while  the  latter  looked 
upon  Gumbo  as  a  weaker  brother  to  be  loved  and 
protected.  It  was  not  at  all  strange  that  on  this  day 
the  servant  should  observe  the  master's  gloomy 
silence  and  remark : 

"  Wats  de  matter,  Marse  Paul  ?  You  seems  kin' 
ob  dumfouzled  —  you  does." 

Gumbo's  dialect  was  original  with  himself.  It 
was  neither  the  pure  English  of  the  Lovelaces  nor 
the  broad  patois  of  the  field  hands,  but  a  mixture 
of  the  two ;  and  it  was  very  unstable.  At  times  it 
resembled  the  one  extreme;  again  it  closely  ap- 
proached the  other.  In  addition  he  interlarded  and 
embellished  his  conversation  with  resonant  polysyl- 


30  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

labic  words.  It  mattered  not  that  he  did  not  know 
their  meaning  or  that  they  were  verbal  monstrosi- 
ties, the  like  of  which  was  never  known  before  — 
he  loved  them  as  a  mother  loves  her  children,  and 
held  them  up  for  public  admiration.  So,  when  he 
accused  Paul  of  seeming  "  dumfouzled,"  his  mean- 
ing was  beyond  human  comprehension. 

"  I  declar' !  Marse  Paul,  you  mus'  be  dumfouzled ; 
you  doesn't  hear  nuffin  I  says." 

Paul  looked  up  and  asked : 

"  Were  you  speaking  to  me,  Gumbo  ?  " 

"  Were  I  speakin'  to  you !  Marse  Paul,  you's  clean 
decrastinated  whar  you  am.  W'at  in  de  worl's  de 
matter  wid  you  ?  " 

The  younger  man  smiled  in  spite  of  himself. 
Gumbo's  absurdities  were  refreshing. 

"  I  was  thinking,"  he  answered  as  he  unfastened 
his  cloak  and  flung  it  loose  from  his  neck. 

"  Is  you  in  trouble,  Marse  Paul  ?  " 

"I  am  worried,  Gumbo  —  that  is  all." 

"  W'at  erbout?  " 

"  I  may  not  tell  you  all,  but  I'm  going  to  leave 
here  soon ;  and  probably  I  shall  never  come  back.  I 
must  seek  a  home  for  myself,  elsewhere." 

"  Whar  you  gwine  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  yet  —  back  to  England,  perhaps." 

"Co'se  you'll  take  me,  Marse  Paul.  I  couldn't 
stay  here  widout  you,  nohow  —  'deed  I  couldn't." 

"  When  I  go,  Gumbo,  I  must  leave  you  behind.  I 
cannot  —  " 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  31 

"  Doesn't  I  belong  to  you,  Marse  Paul  ?  " 

"Yes,  but  —  " 

"  Den  wa't  you  mean  by  abscodin'  me  in  dat 
fashion?  Fse  gwine  wid  you,  Marse  Paul — dat's 
all !  " 

Gumbo  said  this  with  an  obstinate  shake  of  his 
woolly  head. 

"  Surely  you  wouldn't  wish  to  leave  Hester  and 
Aunt  Caroline  ?  "  Paul  remarked,  the  shadow  of  a 
smile  flitting  about  his  beardless  lips. 

"  Does  you  want  to  leave  'em,  Marse  Paul  ?  "  was 
the  negro's  answer. 

"  No;  but  I'm  compelled  to  go  —  you're  not." 

Paul  was  arguing  the  question  with  his  servant 
simply  to  divert  his  own  thoughts,  and  not  with  the 
intent  of  convincing  the  black.  But  Gumbo  was 
in  dead  earnest,  and  thus  replied : 

"  Isn't  de  dorg  dispelled  to  trabel  wid  his  master? 
Does  you  dispose  fo'  a  minute,  Marse  Paul,  dat  I's 
gwine  to  let  you  go  'way  widout  me  to  take  keer  ob 
you?" 

"  Very  well  —  we  shall  see,  Gumbo,"  Graydon 
answered ;  and  again  relapsed  into  his  moody  rev- 
erie. The  negro  was  not  satisfied. 

"  Wat  you  gwine  f o',  Marse  Paul  ?  " 

"  To  seek  my  fortune,"  answered  the  other  with- 
out looking  up. 

"  Isn't  you  happy  an'  distented  here?  " 

"  No." 

"W'y?" 


32  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  I  may  not  tell  you.    Don't  question  me  further." 

"  Ol'  Marse  George  meant  fo'  you  to  marry  Miss 
Hester,  an'  sheer  de  plantation  wid  'er." 

Paul  started. 

"  How  do  you  know,  Gumbo  ?  " 

"  Bekase  dis  nigger  heerd  him  an'  de  ol'  missus 
discoursin'  de  subjeck,  jes'  a  sho't  time  'fo'  he  died." 

Graydon  turned  upon  the  slave  and  said  sternly : 

"  Gumbo,  let  us  drop  the  subject  I'm  going  away 
—  it  doesn't  matter  why.  You  are  not  to  mention  a 
word  of  this  to  anyone." 

They  were  ascending  toward  the  foot  hills  of  the 
Alleghenies.  The  road  grew  rougher  and  steeper, 
dwindled  to  a  mere  bypath,  along  which  they  were 
compelled  to  ride  single  file,  and  wound  here  and 
there  through  the  intricate  labyrinth  of  the  wood. 
After  about  an  hour  of  hard  riding,  they  came  upon 
a  small  clearing  among  the  trees,  in  the  center  of 
which  stood  a  commodious  cabin  of  hewed  logs.  The 
ears  of  the  two  riders  were  greeted  with  a  discord- 
ant chorus  of  yelps  and  barks,  as  a  half  dozen  mon- 
grel curs  came  bounding  across  the  open  space 
toward  them. 

A  tall,  rawboned  mountaineer,  gun  in  hand,  was 
leaning  against  the  corner  of  the  house.  The  cabin 
stood  upon  a  small  plateau :  and  at  its  back  rose  a 
rock-ribbed  spur  of  the  mountain. 

This  was  the  home  of  Isaac  Meeks  and  family. 

lis  landed  estate  consisted  of  a  few  acres  of  wooded 

hillside,  seamed  and  furrowed  by  rocky  ravines. 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  33 

His  cabin,  cow  and  a  few  hogs  —  not  counting  his 
rifle  and  dogs,  which  he  deemed  of  vastly  more  im- 
portance —  were  his  earthy  all.  But  Meeks  was  a 
contented  soul.  He  required  but  little  to  render  him 
happy  —  and  he  had  it.  He  cultivated  a  small  plat 
of  ground  —  or  rather  his  wife  and  children  did  — 
and  raised  what  corn,  potatoes  and  other  vegetables 
the  family  needed.  The  cow  furnished  milk;  and 
what  meat  the  fat  porkers,  that  ran  wild  in  the 
woods,  failed  to  supply,  Meeks  procured  from  the 
mountains  with  his  trusty  rifle.  As  for  the  rough 
clothing,  part  of  it  was  made  from  the  skins  of 
the  wild  animals  he  trapped  and  shot,  and  the  re- 
mainder he  procured  from  farmers  in  the  valley, 
bartering  peltries  and  wild  meat  for  linsey-woolsey. 
His  family  was  composed  of  his  wife  and  two 
children,  a  boy  and  a  girl,  aged  twelve  and  ten  years 
respectively,  and  a  niece,  Marie  Fontanelle.  Nancy 
Meeks,  the  wife  and  mother,  was  as  tall,  rawboned 
and  ugly  as  her  worthy  spouse;  but  in  disposition 
she  differed  from  him  materially.  Both  were  un- 
couth and  illiterate,  but  possessed  of  native  indepen- 
dence and  shrewdness.  Here,  however,  the  similar- 
ity ended.  Mr.  Meeks  was  a  born  philosopher,  who 
loved  to  live  near  to  nature's  heart  and  cared  for 
little  else.  With  him,  to  hunt  and  trap  was  the  aim 
and  end  of  existence.  He  thoroughly  enjoyed  the 
primitive  life  he  led.  His  wants  were  few,  and  the 
woods  and  streams  supplied  them.  He  had  no  am- 
bition to  be  other  than  he  was.  His  only  concern 
3 


34  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

was  that  the  settlements  were  drawing  nearer  and 
nearer  to  his  mountain  retreat. 

It  was  far  different  with  his  worthy  spouse.  She 
wanted  to  do  something  and  be  something  in  the 
world.  She  was  energetic  and  industrious,  and 
longed  for  the  chance  to  acquire  riches.  She  was 
discontented  with  her  hard  lot,  and  envied  her  more 
fortunate  neighbors  in  the  valley.  This  disposition 
on  his  wife's  part  was  a  continual  source  of  annoy- 
ance to  Isaac  Meeks  She  called  him  lazy  and  shift- 
less, and  railed  at  him  continually.  At  first  he  paid 
little  heed  to  her  words,  escaping  to  the  woods 
when  she  became  too  insistent;  but  of  late  she  had 
allowed  him  no  peace  —  neither  day  nor  night  — 
insisting  that  he  sell  the  little  home  and  emigrate  to 
a  more  favorable  locality,  till  the  poor  fellow  was  al- 
most distracted 

Marie  Fontanelle  was  the  only  child  of  Isaac 
Meeks's  oldest  sister.  The  girl  was  lovely,  with  the 
fair  beauty  the  old  masters  loved  to  paint.  Her  hair 
was  like  threads  of  virgin  gold ;  and  her  large  blue 
eyes  had  in  them  the  tint  of  the  overarching  heavens. 
She  was  of  medium  height  and  perfect  in  form  and 
feature.  In  her  nature  was  combined  the  sturdy  vir- 
tues and  keen  common  sense  of  her  Virginia  mother 
and  the  sparkling  wit  and  alert  vivacity  of  her 
French  father  She  was  eighteen  years  old,  and  had 
a  fair  education  for  the  day  and  community  in  which 
she  lived.  That  she  possessed  a  rudimentary  knowl- 
edge of  books  was  due  to  the  fact  that  she  had  spent 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  35 

the  first  fifteen  years  of  her  life  with  an  aunt  in 
Richmond.  When  this  aunt  died,  Marie  came  to 
make  her  home  in  the  cabin  of  her  uncle,  for  she  had 
no  other  relatives. 

Some  nineteen  years  before  the  time  of  which  we 
write,  Jacques  Fontanelle,  a  French  fur  trader  from 
Canada,  found  his  way  into  the  valley  of  the  Shen- 
andoah.  Here  he  met  and  loved  Ruth  Meeks,  the 
rustic  belle  of  the  settlement.  His  love  was  re- 
turned, and  a  few  months  after  his  arrival  the  two 
were  secretly  married.  When  the  Meeks  family 
became  aware  of  it,  they  were  furiously  angry,  and 
accused  her  of  everlastingly  disgracing  the  family. 
It  is  true  that  they  had  nothing  to  boast  of  in  the 
way  of  social  prestige,  and  that  honest  Jacques  Fon- 
tanelle was  a  credit  to  them;  but  they  considered 
him  the  prince  of  Ishmaelites  —  for  was  he  not  a 
Frenchman ! 

The  feeling  of  the  Meeks  family,  toward  Fonta- 
nelle, will  be  more  readily  understood,  if  it  be  re- 
membered that  his  marriage  to  Ruth  occurred  a  few 
years  after  the  close  of  the  French  and  Indian  war, 
and  while  the  war  spirit  against  his  nation  was  still 
rife  in  every  English  settlement.  The  voluble 
Frenchman  was  not  lacking  in  personal  courage, 
and  he  bitterly  and  boldly  resented  the  Meeks'  inter- 
ference. The  result  was  an  open  feud.  Jacques  was 
compelled  to  flee  for  his  life,  with  a  half  dozen  long- 
rifles  belching  flame  at  his  heels;  and  Ruth  —  dis- 


36  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

consolate  and  broken-hearted  —  died  on  giving  birth 
to  Marie. 

"  Well,  I've  been  a-waitin'  fer  you  quite  a  bit.  Are 
you  all  ready  fer  the  hunt  ?  "  was  the  frank  greeting 
of  Meeks  to  the  newcomers,  when  the  dogs  had  been 
cowed. 

"  All  ready,"  was  Paul's  reply.  But  he  kept  look- 
ing toward  the  cabin,  and  did  not  show  a  readiness 
to  depart. 

"  She  ain't  there ! "  chuckled  the  good-natured 
Isaac,  shouldering  his  rifle  and  starting  toward  the 
woods ;  "  she's  gone  down  to  the  corn-patch,  to  help 
Nancy  shuck  out  a  basket  o'  corn.  You  can  see  her 
when  we  come  back.  Le's  mosey  —  it's  gittin'  late." 

Paul  heaved  a  sigh  as  he  shouldered  his  rifle.  He 
was  not  content  to  go  upon  the  hunt  without  first 
seeing  Marie. 

As  the  three  men  disappeared  among  the  trees, 
Mrs.  Meeks  and  Marie,  bearing  a  basket  of  corn 
between  them,  came  around  the  corner  of  the  cabin 
and  entered  the  door. 


CHAPTER  IV 

AT  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  the  men  returned, 
tired  and  hungry,  but  bearing  in  triumph  the 
skin  and  a  part  of  the  carcass  of  a  huge  black  bear. 
They  partook  heartily  of  the  meal,  consisting  of  bear 
steak,  corn  bread  and  milk,  that  Mrs.  Meeks  hur- 
riedly prepared  for  them.  Paul  saw  Marie  pick  up 
a  heavy  wooden  pail  and  start  for  the  spring  a  hun- 
dred yards  from  the  cabin,  and  he  joined  her. 

"  Have  the  horses  in  readiness,  Gumbo,"  he  said, 
as  he  took  the  pail  from  Marie's  hand  and  walked 
at  her  side. 

"  All  right,  Marse  Paul,"  answered  the  obedient 
black. 

The  two  young  people  walked  on  in  silence,  to- 
ward the  spring  in  the  ravine.  Marie  was  the  first 
to  speak.  Turning  her  sweet,  but  troubled,  face 
toward  the  young  man  towering  above  her,  she 
asked : 

"  You  are  silent  and  thoughtful,  my  Paul.  What 
troubles  you  ?  " 

He  slipped  his  arm  around  her  waist,  and,  bend- 
ing down,  kissed  her  upturned  face  as  he  replied : 

"  I'm  in  trouble,  Marie  mine.  I  must  go  away 
and  leave  you." 

(37) 


38  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

She  started  from  his  embrace,  and  a  startled  look 
crept  into  her  face.  Was  Nancy  Meeks  right,  then  ? 
Had  Paul  Graydon  been  playing  with  her  affections, 
for  his  own  pastime?  Did  he  mean  to  leave  her, 
never  to  return  ?  She  could  not  believe  him  so  base. 
But  what  did  he  mean  ?  Her  thoughts  were  reflect- 
ed in  her  countenance ;  and  Paul  Graydon  read  them 
as  from  an  open  book.  Opening  his  arms,  he  step- 
ped toward  her,  crying: 

"  No !  A  thousand  times  no,  Marie  —  not  that ! 
You  do  me  great  injustice.  When  you've  heard  ail 
I  have  to  tell  you,  you'll  have  no  place  in  your  heart 
for  mistrust." 

She  sprang  into  his  outstretched  arms,  and,  nest- 
ling her  head  upon  his  bosom,  sobbed : 

"  I  do  love  and  trust  you,  Paul !  But  what  does 
it  mean  that  you  must  leave  me  here  alone !  I  was 
unhappy  until  you  came  into  my  life.  I  never  knew 
what  love  and  sympathy  meant.  I  can't  bear  to 
think  of  trying  to  live  without  seeing  you!  Why 
must  you  go,  Paul  ?  " 

He  pressed  her  to  his  heart,  without  speaking. 
She  noticed  this ;  and  there  was  a  shade  of  annoy- 
ance in  her  voice,  as  she  repeated: 

"  Why  must  you  go  ?  " 

"  Let's  walk  on  to  the  spring,"  he  answered ;  "  I'll 
tell  you  as  we  go.  I  may  not  tell  you  all  at  present, 
dear;  but  I  can't  remain  at  my  aunt's.  Besides,  I 
must  go  to  build  a  nest  for  you.  I've  no  home  to 
take  you  to,  now.  As  soon  as  I'm  settled,  I'll  come 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  39 

for  you.  Until  that  time  you  must  remain  here. 
Will  you  pray  for  my  success,  Marie  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Paul,"  she  replied  slowly,  her  eyes  bent 
upon  the  ground ;  "  but  I  do  so  hate  to  have  you 
leave  me.  I've  a  premonition  we  shall  never  meet 
again.  And  what  shall  I  do  here  ?  Of  course  Uncle 
Isaac  is  kind  to  me,  in  his  rough  way;  but  Aunt 
Nancy  doesn't  always  like  me,  and  sometimes  she  — 
she  —  " 

"  What  ?  "  asked  Paul,  quickly. 

"  Oh,  she  scolds,  and  says  I'm  lazy  and  trifling. 
And  I  don't  like  to  be  her  drudge.  Can't  I  go  with 
you,  Paul  ?  " 

They  were  standing  by  the  spring ;  and  she  looked 
up  at  him  pleadingly,  all  her  soul  in  her  tear-dim- 
med eyes. 

"  It  may  not  be,"  he  answered  gently,  laying  his 
hand  upon  her  shoulder.  "  But  the  parting  shall 
not  be  for  long.  The  months  will  soon  slip  by  — 
and  then  how  happy  we  shall  be!  Don't  worry, 
sweetheart." 

She  smiled  through  her  tears,  and  reached  up  her 
mouth  for  a  kiss.  She  had  perfect  confidence  in  him 
now.  He  kissed  her,  and  playfully  putting  her  to 
one  side  began  to  fill  the  pail  at  the  spring.  A  mis- 
chievous light  flashed  in  her  blue  eyes,  and  catching 
up  the  gourd  dipper  she  filled  it  vrith  the  sparkling 
water  and  slyly  poured  a  stream  down  the  back  of 
his  neck,  as  he  bent  to  his  task.  Then,  with  a  ripple 
of  laughter,  she  bounded  away  along  the  path  toward 


40  7.V  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

the  cabin.  He  took  up  the  heavy  pail  and  followed 
her,  slopping  the  water  over  his  shoes  in  his  awk- 
ward efforts  to  overtake  her.  She  nimbly  danced 
and  gyrated  in  front  of  him,  until  he  was  breathless 
and  panting  from  his  exertions.  Then  she  suddenly 
returned  to  his  side  and  taking  one  side  of  the 
pail  assisted  him  with  his  burden,  all  the  time  call- 
ing him  endearing  names  and  glancing  at  him 
roguishly  from  the  corners  of  her  eyes. 

Paul  looked  at  her  admiringly  and  laughed  im- 
moderately. In  his  estimation  everything  Marie  did 
or  said  was  perfectly  right  and  proper. 

Before  they  were  half  way  to  the  house  her  whole 
deportment  changed;  again  she  was  sad  and  de- 
jected. But  Paul  cheered  and  comforted  her,  by 
telling  her  that  he  would  not  remain  away  long, 
and  that  this  should  be  their  only  parting.  At  the 
cabin  door  he  left  her,  and  mounting  his  horse 
disappeared  down  the  narrow  trail.  Marie  watched 
him  with  tears  in  her  eyes  and  a  sickening  dread  in 
her  fond  young  heart. 

It  was  dark  when  Paul  and  Gumbo  reached  the 
plantation.  The  soft,  warm  light  streaming  from 
the  small-paned  windows  seemed  to  beckon  them  as 
they  drew  near.  Hester  met  her  cousin  at  the  door, 
and  smilingly  informed  him  that  supper  was  ready 
and  that  she  and  her  mother  had  been  anxiously 
awaiting  his  coming.  The  two  entered  the  sitting 
room,  where  Mrs.  Lovelace  greeted  Paul  cordially. 
He  and  Hester  assisted  the  mother  to  the  dining 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAJR  41 

room,  and  all  sat  down  to  their  evening  meal.  Mrs. 
Lovelace  asked  Paul  to  recount  the  adventures  of 
the  day;  and  she  and  her  daughter  looked  grave 
when  he  told  of  the  fight  with  the  bear,  and  laughed 
immoderately  at  his  recital  of  Meeks'  quaint  remarks 
and  Gumbo's  unctuous  absurdities. 

The  meal  passed  very  pleasantly.  At  first  Paul  had 
a  feeling  of  constraint;  but  as  Hester  appeared  to 
have  forgotten  the  morning's  conversation,  he  was 
soon  at  ease.  Supper  over,  the  three  returned 
to  the  sitting  room  and  chatted  merrily  for  an 
hour  or  more.  Take  it  all  in  all,  it  was  the  most 
pleasant  evening  they  had  spent  together  in  a  long 
time;  and  the  young  man  could  but  feel  that  it 
was  a  very  comfortable  home,  and  one  that  it  would 
grieve  him  much  to  leave.  After  a  time,  Hes- 
ter excused  herself  by  saying  that  she  wished  to 
write  a  letter,  and  left  the  room.  Feeling  that  his 
aunt  would  prefer  to  be  left  alone,  Paul  arose  to  go 
to  his  own  apartments;  but  Mrs.  Lovelace  stopped 
him  by  saying: 

"  Sit  down,  my  boy.  Don't  be  in  a  hurry  —  you 
don't  often  spend  an  evening  with  me." 

"  Certainly,  aunt,  I  shall  stay,  if  you  wish.  I 
thought  you  were  tired,  perhaps,  and  would  rather 
be  left  to  yourself." 

"  I've  been  very  lonely  since  the  death  of  your 
dear  uncle,  Paul.  You  and  Hester  are  my  only  com- 
panions —  for,  as  you  know,  I'm  not  able  to  go  to 
the  home  of  my  nearest  neighbor.  I  miss  each  of 


42  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

you  very  much,  when  you're  out  of  the  house.  I've 
always  regarded  you  as  a  son ;  you're  as  dear  to  me 
as  my  own  daughter.  I  believe  it  would  kill  me  to 
lose  either  Hester  or  you  —  you're  all  I  have  left  to 
love." 

Paul  saw  she  was  aware  of  his  intended  depart- 
ure, and  would  oppose  it.  He  braced  himself  for  the 
ordeal.  He  did  not  look  at  her,  yet  he  felt  her  eyes 
fixed  upon  him;  and  knew  that  she  was  studying 
his  countenance,  and  that  she  expected  him  to  say 
something. 

"  I've  no  doubt  of  your  sincere  love  for  me,  Aunt 
Caroline,"  he  replied.  "  You  and  Uncle  George 
have  always  treated  me  as  your  own  son ;  and  I  re- 
turn your  affection.  I  glean  from  what  you've  just 
said  that  Hester  has  told  you  of  my  intention  of  go- 
ing away.  Believe  me,  I'm  loath  to  go,  but  there's 
no  choice  left  me." 

"Why?" 

"  I've  nothing,  and  I've  played  the  gentleman  too 
long,  already.  I  wish  to  earn  my  own  living  —  to 
acquire  wealth  by  my  own  effort." 

"  You  say  that  you  have  nothing,  Paul  ?  " 

"  I  said  that  —  yes." 

"  Your  uncle  intended  you  should  share  equally 
with  Hester;  there's  no  call  for  your  seeking  your 
fortune  elsewhere." 

"  Aunt  Caroline,"  answered  Paul,  earnestly,  "  do 
you  suppose  for  a  moment  that  I  would  consent  to 
rob  Hester,  whom  I  love  as  a  dear  sister,  of  what's 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  43 

rightfully  hers?  Do  you  think  me  base  enough  to 
steal  one-half  her  fortune,  under  the  guise  and  name 
of  brother  ?  I  cannot  do  it.  As  I  told  her  this  morn- 
ing, you've  been  very  good  to  me,  a  penniless 
orphan ;  but  I  can  accept  no  more  at  your  hands." 

Mrs.  Lovelace  smiled  serenely  as  she  replied : 

"  My  boy  has  false  notions  of  his  due  and  his 
duty.  Hester  and  I  offer  you  this  because  your 
uncle  intended  you  should  have  it.  It's  yours,  not 
ours.  Of  course  we  don't  care  to  divide  the  estate ; 
and  there's  no  reason  for  so  doing.  Everything  is 
yours  and  Hester's.  Stay  here  and  enjoy  it  with 
her." 

As  she  said  this,  she  watched  him  narrowly  to 
note  the  effect  of  her  words.  Their  eyes  met ;  but 
he  did  not  flinch.  He  understood  her  meaning  fully, 
but  he  made  no  sign. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  aunt,  but  I  can't  do  as  you 
wish." 

"  Why  ?  "  —  And  there  was  a  chill  in  her  voice. 

"  I've  given  you  my  reasons,"  he  answered, 
quietly. 

"  I  don't  consider  them  valid.  Tell  me,  Paul, 
what  has  given  you  such  Quixotic  notions  ?  " 

"  I've  been  thinking  of  leaving,  for  weeks." 

"  You've  not  answered  my  question." 

"  There's  no  need  of  rethreshing  the  straw,  Aunt 
Caroline.  I  don't  know  how  to  answer  your  ques- 
tion." 

Mrs.  Lovelace  remained  silent  for  a  few  moments, 


44 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 


steadily  gazing  into  the  embers  upon  the  hearth. 
Paul  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair.  Turning  upon 
him  suddenly,  she  completely  surprised  him  by 
asking: 

"  Paul,  will  you  marry  Hester,  and  share  her  for- 
tune with  her?  It's  the  strong  and  earnest  desire 
of  my  heart  that  you  should.  It  was  your  uncle's 
wish.  I  haven't  beaten  about  the  bush.  Will  you 
doit?" 

He  had  been  aware  all  along  that  it  was  coming ; 
but  he  had  not  expected  her  to  put  it  so  bluntly. 
For  a  moment  he  could  say  nothing.  She  had  him 
at  a  disadvantage,  and,  he  imagined,  was  enjoying 
his  discomfiture.  The  thought  helped  him  to  call 
up  his  latent  will  power  and  to  assert  himself.  He 
had  been  on  the  point  of  yielding  to  her  desire,  out 
of  sheer  helplessness.  She  had  asked  a  direct  ques- 
tion; he  would  give  her  a  decisive  answer.  His 
reply  was  almost  cruel  in  its  terseness.  Fixing  his 
gaze  upon  her,  he  articulated  the  one  word : 

"  No." 

"  You  —  will  —  not  ?  "  she  gasped. 

"  I  will  not." 

"Your  reason?" 

"  I  don't  love  Hester  in  that  way." 

It  was  painfully  silent  in  the  big  room.  Not  a 
sound  was  to  be  heard,  but  the  subdued  breathing  of 
the  two  persons  and  the  slow  tick-tock  of  the  tall 
clock  in  the  corner.  A  stick  of  wood  tumbled  from 
the  andirons  and  fell  blazing  upon  the  hearth.  In 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  45 

the  flickering  light  it  shed,  Paul  saw  his  aunt's  pale 
and  emaciated  countenance,  and  realized  that  the 
tide  of  her  anger  was  rising.  Presently  he  heard 
her  saying  —  though  her  voice  sounded  unreal  and 
far  away : 

"  Bah !  What  do  two  children  like  you  and  Hes- 
ter know  of  love!  You've  lived  so  long  together 
that  each  has  absorbed  a  part  of  the  other.  You're 
much  alike  in  many  things ;  but  most  alike  in  this  — 
each  loves  the  other  without  knowing  it.  And  your 
love  isn't  wholly  the  love  of  brother  and  sister; 
unconsciously  you're  lovers.  I'm  not  blind  —  /  can 
see  clearly.  Let's  have  no  more  of  this  nonsense  — 
this  talk  of  the  lack  of  love  —  this  babble  of  seek- 
ing a  fortune  elsewhere.  I'm  sure  that  Hester  loves 
you  well  enough  to  marry  you  and  make  you  a  good 
and  true  wife ;  and,  as  you  love  no  one  else,  you 
surely  love  her  —  or  can  easily  learn  to  do  so  — " 

She  hesitated  momentarily,  and  he  broke  in : 

"  But  I  do  love  another,  Aunt  Caroline ! " 

"What!" 

"  I  love  Marie  Fontanelle." 

She  laughed  a  low,  forced  laugh  and  returned 
sneeringly : 

"  Oh,  yes !  I  know  —  a  passing  passion !  The 
love  a  master  may  feel  for  a  beautiful  quadroon  — " 

"  Aunt  Caroline !  "  he  interrupted  —  and  his 
words  fell  like  measured  bits  of  ice ;  "  if  you  speak 
thus  of  the  woman  I  love,  I'll  not  stay  to  hear  you  !  " 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  are  in  earnest 


46  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

—  that  you  really  fancy  this ---this  miss  of  doubt- 
ful origin  ?  " 

"  I  love  Marie  —  yes." 

"  And  you  intend  to  marry  her  ?  " 

"  I  do." 

The  tide  of  her  anger  had  been  rising,  little  by  lit- 
tle. Now  it  overleaped  the  bounds  that  she  had  set 
for  it,  and  swept  over  her.  It  washed  her  from  her 
moorings  of  self-restraint,  and  tossed  her  hither 
and  thither.  She  sank  into  its  boiling  depths,  with  a 
gurgling  moan ;  arose  to  the  surface,  buffeting  the 
waves  and  raving  half  incoherently.  Paul  had  never 
seen  his  aunt  so  aroused  before,  and  looked  upon  her 
in  wonder  not  unmixed  with  fear  for  her  sanity. 

"  You  dolt  —  you  idot !  "  she  cried  shrilly. 
"  You  dare  to  insult  my  daughter  by  preferring  an 
ignorant  backwoods  wench  to  her!  For  shame! 
And  you  call  yourself  a  gentleman!  Paul,  if  you 
marry  this  girl  contrary  to  my  wishes,  you  go  out  of 
my  house  a  beggar.  Do  you  understand?  A  pen- 
niless outcast!  I  won't  own  you  —  I'm  glad  you 
don't  bear  our  name.  You're  mad  to  think  of  such 
a  thing.  What  has  come  over  you  ?  I  always  gave 
you  credit  for  better  sense !  In  the  name  of  reason, 
how  can  you  contemplate  such  an  act  ?  Do  you  not 
see  that  it  means  ruin  to  yourself  —  to  us  all?  I 
may  as  well  tell  you  that  Hester  loves  you  fondly. 
And  you  would  coolly  and  cruelly  break  her  heart, 
for  the  sake  of  a  milk-and-water  face !  What  of  the 
French  girl's  antecedents  —  of  her  relatives  ?  Have 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  47 

you  given  the  matter  a  thought?  I'll  not  believe 
you're  in  earnest  —  you  can't  be!  Tell  me  that 
you're  only  jesting! " 

Her  mood  had  changed.  Relieved  from  the  tor- 
rent of  anger,  she  regained  her  self-control.  She  ut- 
tered the  last  words  brokenly  and  pleadingly  —  her 
frail  body  shaking  as  with  an  ague.  Paul  sat  before 
her,  unmoved  through  it  all,  apparently,  until  her 
voice  faltered  and  the  tears  came  to  her  eyes.  Then 
he  forgot  the  harsh  things  she  had  said,  and  sincere- 
ly pitied  her. 

"  Aunt  Caroline,  what  you  ask  can  never  be,"  he 
answered  kindly  but  firmly.  "  Let's  look  the  matter 
fairly  in  the  face.  I  love  Marie.  I  don't  love  Hes- 
ter. I  should  be  false  to  both,  if  I  married  the  one 
I  do  not  love.  There  !  don't  interrupt  me  —  let  me 
explain  fully  what  I  mean.  I've  a  brother's  love 
for  my  cousin  —  no  more.  It  would  be  refined 
cruelty  to  marry  her  under  the  circumstances  — 
to  marry  her  for  her  money.  No  one  on  earth  is  so 
unhappy  as  a  loving  but  unloved  wife.  Hester  will 
soon  forget  me  —  that  is,  she  will  cease  to  regard 
me  as  a  lover  —  and  we  shall  all  be  happier  for 
the  decision  I've  made.  I  wish  fate  had  willed  it 
otherwise  —  I'm  very  sorry  to  disappoint  and  grieve 
those  I  love  and  respect.  But  it  can't  be." 

Mrs.  Lovelace  sank  back  upon  the  sofa,  exhausted. 
She  wearily  closed  her  eyes,  and  was  silent  for  sev- 
eral minutes.  At  last  she  said  in  a  weak  but  steady 
tone  of  voice : 


48  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  At  least  you  don't  think  of  leaving  us  at  once, 
Paul?" 

"  I  must  go  soon  —  very  soon.     It  is  better  so." 

"  You'll  stay,  surely,  until  we  can  procure  an 
efficient  overseer  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  I'm  so  necessary  to  the  successful 
management  of  your  plantation  and  affairs,  Aunt 
Caroline.  However,  I'll  stay  for  a  few  days,  until 
you  can  make  arrangements  to  your  entire  satisfac- 
tion." 

Something  akin  to  a  smile  trembled  about  her 
thin,  straight  lips,  as  she  replied: 

"Very  well — that's  all.  You  may  go  now;  I'm 
tired." 

She  did  not  lift  her  eyelids  nor  move  a  muscle, 
as  he  bade  her  good-night  and  left  the  room.  Shortly 
afterward,  Hester  came  in  to  assist  her  mother  to  her 
room.  Arriving  there,  the  invalid  dropped  into  a 
chair,  sighing  deeply.  The  daughter  closed  the  door 
and  asked : 

"Well?" 

"  I  found  him  unreasonable  and  obdurate." 

Hester  Lovelace  drooped  visibly.  A  hopeless  ex- 
pression rested  upon  her  countenance. 

"  I'm  not  surprised ;  I  knew  that  you  could  do 
nothing  with  him.  My  dream  is  over." 

"  Stop ! "  commanded  Mrs.  Lovelace,  sternly. 
"  Do  you  not  love  him  ?  " 

"  With  my  whole  soul !  " 

"  Listen,  then.    He  shall  be  yours !    Do  you  hear 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  49 

me  ?  He  shall  be  yours !  I  haven't  played  my  last 
nor  highest  card.  I  —  we  will  stop  at  nothing.  Go 
to  bed  now  —  and  may  you  sleep  well." 

Without  another  word,  Hester  assisted  her  moth- 
er to  retire,  and  withdrew.  Mrs.  Lovelace  fell  asleep, 
a  smile  upon  her  worn  face. 
4 


CHAPTER  V 

AT  breakfast  next  morning,  Paul's  appearance 
indicated  that  he  had  spent  a  restless  night, 
and  Hester's  swollen  eyelids  showed  that  she  had 
been  weeping.  But  Mrs.  Lovelace  gave  no  sign  of 
worriment  or  loss  of  sleep.  She  was  dignified  and 
collected,  as  usual,  and  did  most  of  the  talking,  to 
the  relief  of  the  young  people,  who  felt  unequal  to 
the  task.  The  meal  over,  Paul  went  to  superintend 
some  work  on  a  distant  part  of  the  estate,  and 
mother  and  daughter  were  left  alone.  Mrs.  Love- 
lace occupied  her  accustomed  place  on  the  rigid  sofa 
in  front  of  the  fire,  her  emaciated  fingers  deftly 
wielding  the  knitting  needles,  while  the  ball  of 
scarlet  yarn  in  her  lap  turned  over  and  over  as  she 
pulled  upon  the  thread.  Hester  sat  near,  her  work 
lying  idle  upon  her  knees  and  her  dark  eyes  fas- 
tened upon  vacancy. 

"  Hester !  "  The  young  woman  started  from  her 
reverie. 

"What  is  it,  mother?" 

"  I  told  you  last  night  that  today  we'd  discuss 
methods  of  bringing  Paul  to  his  senses.  I've  formu- 
lated a  plan." 

Contrary  to  what  Mrs.  Lovelace  expected,  Hester 
(50) 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  51 

evinced  little  interest.  The  younger  woman  again 
turned  toward  the  fire,  and  relaxed  into  listless  in- 
difference. The  elder  woman  was  surprised  and 
puzzled. 

"  Hester,  don't  you  want  to  marry  Paul  ?  "  she 
cried. 

"  Certainly  I  do." 

"  Then  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  There's  no  use  planning  and  scheming,  mother ; 
it's  not  to  be,"  the  daughter  answered,  sadly.  "  We 
may  as  well  accept  the  inevitable." 

"  Nonsense !  "  said  the  other,  angrily.  "  If  you 
submit  in  this  imbecile  way,  you  are  no  daughter  of 
mine.  Nothing's  impossible  to  those  who  work  and 
wait.  Listen !  I  tell  you  he  shall  be  yours,  if  you'll 
do  as  I  wish." 

A  perceptible  change  came  over  Hester.  She 
showed  more  of  animation  in  her  voice  and  attitude, 
as  she  inquired: 

"What  shall  I  do?" 

"  Permit  me  to  plan  for  you  —  and  then  execute 
what  I  plan." 

"Well?" 

"  Marie  Fontanelle  must  be  removed  from  your 
path  —  from  Paul's  sight." 

Startled  and  horrified,  Hester  exclaimed. 

"  Removed  —  how  ?  " 

"  She  must  disappear,  leaving  no  trace  behind 
her." 

"  You  mean  to  —  to  murder  her  ?  " 


52  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R 

"  Hardly  so  bad  as  that."  —  And  Mrs.  Lovelace 
laughed  uneasily.  "  But  suppose  it  becomes  neces- 
sary to  murder  her,  in  order  to  accomplish  our  ends. 
What  then?  What's  her  life  compared  with  your 
happiness?  But  it  isn't  necessary  to  go  so  far.  I 
know  a  better  and  safer  way." 

The  shocked  look  had  not  left  Hester's  face,  as  she 
said  feelingly: 

"  Mother,  I  never  saw  you  hard  and  cruel  before. 
What  does  it  mean  ?  " 

Fierce  determination  was  in  Caroline  Lovelace's 
face,  and  settled  resolve  in  her  voice,  as  she  replied : 

"  That  I'm  fully  determined  you  and  Paul  shall 
marry,  no  matter  who  may  oppose.  And  woe  betide 
the  one  who  stands  in  the  road  leading  to  the  ful- 
fillment of  my  desires!  Are  you  ready  to  hear  my 
plans?" 

"  I'm  ready,"  answered  Hester  flushed  and  ex- 
cited. 

"  It's  this,  then :  we'll  send  Paul  to  Richmond,  to 
negotiate  the  sale  of  the  tobacco  crop.  While  he's 
absent,  we'll  buy  Isaac  Meeks'  little  home  and  hire 
him  to  leave  the  country,  taking  the  Fontanelle  girl 
with  him." 

"  Yes ;  but  suppose  Isaac  refuses  to  sell  ?  " 

"  He'll  not  —  we'll  offer  him  a  price  he  can't  af- 
ford to  refuse." 

"  Miss  Fontanelle  may  decline  to  go  with  her 
uncle." 

"  There  are  several  reasons  why  she'll  do  nothing 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  S3 

of  the  kind.  First,  she  has  no  home  but  with  them ; 
second,  we  can  hire  Isaac  and  his  wife  to  take  her 
by  force,  should  she  prove  rebellious.  They're  not 
above  bribery  —  and  money  will  do  anything." 

"  It  hasn't  bought  me  Paul's  love !  " 

"  It  has  not  —  but  it  will! " 

"  Oh,  mother !  "  —  And  Hester  clasped  and  un- 
clasped her  hands  over  her  knees.  "  Do  you  believe 
we  shall  be  able  to  accomplish  all  this?  " 

"  Of  course  we  shall !  And  when  the  girl's  safely 
beyond  Paul's  sight,  he'll  turn  to  you  for  solace. 
Then  will  come  your  triumph  and  happiness.  Cheer 
up  now.  This  evening  I  shall  ask  your  cousin  to  go 
to  Richmond.  If  you  chance  to  be  present,  don't 
take  exceptions  to  anything  I  may  say.  Treat  Paul 
as  you've  always  treated  him.  Give  him  to  under- 
stand you  love  him,  and  are  sorry  he  thinks  of  leav- 
ing us.  Men  are  peculiar  —  they  must  be  coddled 
and  coaxed,  whipped  and  driven.  Leave  the  mat- 
ter in  my  hands ;  and  you'll  be  happy." 

A  strange  change  was  taking  place  in  this  mother 
and  daughter.  The  stronger  and  more  worthy  mind 
was  gradually  but  surely  yielding  to  the  baleful  in- 
fluence of  the  weaker  and  more  unworthy.  A  week 
before,  Hester  would  have  shuddered  and  turned 
away  from  the  base  plot  she  now  so  calmly  contem- 
plated. By  nature,  Mrs.  Lovelace  was  not  a  bad 
woman ;  but  she  would  have  sold  her  soul,  if  neces- 
sary, to  accomplish  the  overmastering  desire  of  her 
heart.  Hester,  urged  forward  by  the  goadings  of  un- 


54  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

requited  love,  was  blindly  following  whithersoever 
her  mother  led.  Neither  paused  to  ask  what  the  end 
would  be. 

That  evening  the  three  sat  together  in  the  big, 
comfortable  sitting  room.  The  breath  of  frost  out- 
side gave  warning  that  winter  was  on  the  way. 
Paul  lounged  in  an  easy  chair,  his  booted  heels 
stretched  toward  the  crackling  fire  and  his  cheek 
upon  his  palm.  Hester  sat  by  him,  her  hand  rest- 
ing upon  the  arm  of  "his  chair,  while  Airs.  Lovelace 
occupied  her  place  upon  the  sofa.  They  had  been 
talking  of  neighborhood  matters,  but  a  constrained 
silence  had  fallen.  Mrs.  Lovelace  was  the  first 
to  break  it. 

"  Where  do  you  think  of  going  when  you  leave 
us,  Paul?" 

The  nephew  drew  himself  together. 

"  I  don't  know  —  I  haven't  determined." 

"  You  talk  of  leaving  us  within  a  few  days,  and 
yet  you  don't  know  where  you're  going  ?  " 

Mrs.  Lovelace  showed  her  surprise  in  her  voice. 

"  I've  thought  of  going  to  New  York  or  Boston," 
Paul  answered  quietly. 

"  What  would  you  do  there?  " 

"  I'm  not  certain  —  go  into  business,  perhaps." 

"  And  your  money  ?  " 

"  I  have  none  —  I  realize  that  I  should  be  com- 
pelled to  start  at  the  bottom  of  the  ladder." 

"  You  could  sell  your  horse  and  servant." 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  55 

Paul  knew  she  was  striving  to  make  him  feel  how 
helpless  he  was,  but  he  answered  stoutly : 

"  I  think  too  much  of  my  horse  to  part  with  him ; 
and,  as  for  Gumbo,  I  will  not  sell  him.  When  I 
leave  I  shall  give  him  his  freedom." 

"  The  black  would  bring  you  a  thousand  dollars." 

"  You  mean  the  horse,  Aunt  Caroline  ?  " 

"  Nonsense !    I  mean  Gumbo." 

"  No  doubt ;  but  I  shall  not  sell  him." 

"Why?" 

"  It  isn't  necessary  that  I  give  you  my  reason, 
aunt;  you  know  I  don't  believe  in  slavery.  Beside, 
Gumbo  has  been  a  dear  companion  and  friend  to  me 
all  the  years  since  my  arrival  in  America.  It  would 
break  my  heart  to  sell  the  faithful  fellow  —  I  could 
never  forgive  myself." 

Caroline  Lovelace  laughed  a  low,  scornful  laugh ; 
and  Hester's  lip  curled. 

"  You'll  need  a  few  dollars  at  least,"  his  aunt 
continued,  "  when  you  start  upon  your  tour  of 
knight  errantry.  Gumbo  can  play  Sancho  Panza  to 
your  Don  Quixote;  but  what  of  the  coins  to  jingle 
in  your  purse?  " 

Paul  kept  his  temper,  under  his  aunt's  merciless 
fire  of  ridicule. 

"  Oh !  I  have  saved  a  few  dollars.  True,  it's  very 
little ;  but  I  trust  it'll  prove  sufficient  to  pay  my  ex- 
penses until  I  can  find  the  opportunity  to  earn 
more." 


56  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

Mrs.  Lovelace  had  grown  weary  of  the  round- 
about talk. 

"  Paul,"  she  said,  bluntly,  "  I  want  to  give  you  a 
chance  to  earn  some  money.  Will  you  go  to  Rich- 
mond, to  negotiate  the  sale  of  the  tobacco  crop  for 
us  ?  I  think  we  can  do  better  by  sending  you  there." 

Paul  was  taken  aback  by  her  abruptness,  but 
asked  quickly: 

"  When  do  you  wish  me  to  go  ?  " 

"  At  once  —  within  a  day  or  two." 

"  It  would  take  me  several  weeks  to  go  and  come." 

"  Yes." 

"I'll  go  —  but  I'll  accept  nothing  for  my  ser- 
vices." 

"  I'll  attend  to  that.     When  can  you  be  ready  ?  " 

"  Tomorrow,  if  you  wish." 

Mrs.  Lovelace  could  scarcely  conceal  her  exulta- 
tion, as  she  replied : 

"  You're  kind,  Paul ;  and  I  shall  not  forget  it.  I 
wish  you  could  see  your  way  clear  —  and  —  and 
give  up  your  idea  of  going  away;  but  you  know 
your  own  business.  You'd  better  retire  early,  if  you 
think  of  starting  in  the  morning." 

When  he  had  gone,  the  two  women  looked  at  each 
other  in  silence  a  moment. 

"  Do  you  think  he  suspects  ?  "  Hester  whispered, 
moistening  her  dry  lips  with  her  tongue. 

"  I  don't  know  —  I  don't  care.  Once  he  is  out  of 
the  way,  the  game's  ours.  There's  no  retreating 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  57 

now.  Ah !  the  glorious  result  will  be  worth  all  the 
effort  it  costs." 

Hester  looked  upon  her  mother  and  scarcely 
knew  her.  The  older  woman's  face  wore  a  flushed 
and  triumphant  expression,  and  her  eyes  had  in 
them  a  feverish  unrest.  Her  bosom  rose  and  fell,  and 
her  lips  —  usually  so  pale  —  were  red  and  hot.  The 
invalid  had  disappeared  for  the  time.  Stimulated 
by  the  prospect  of  success,  she  was  ready  to  do  and 
dare  anything. 

"  Mother,"  cried  Hester  in  anxiety,  "  you  are 
making  yourself  sick.  Let's  abandon  the  whole 
thing." 

"  Never !  "  was  Mrs.  Lovelace's  decided  answer. 

"  At  any  rate,  you  must  go  to  bed  now,"  insisted 
the  daughter. 

"  I'll  go  to  bed  —  yes ;  but  not  to  sleep.  I  must 
know  neither  sleep  nor  rest  until  you  are  Paul  Gray- 
don's  wife." 

They  passed  through  the  door  leading  to  their 
sleeping  apartments  ;  and  the  great  sitting  room  was 
silent  and  deserted  —  peopled  only  by  the  dancing 
rays  of  the  dying  firelight,  and  silent  save  for  the 
querulous  clock  in  the  shadow. 

The  next  forenoon  Paul  and  Gumbo  set  out  for 
Richmond.  Two  hours  later,  a  slave  carrying  a  let- 
ter was  on  his  way  to  the  home  of  Isaac  Meeks. 
Mrs.  Lovelace  did  not  believe  in  delay. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  STORM  was  raging  at  the  Meeks  homestead ;  not 
a  devastating  tornado  that  fells  forest  trees  and 
lays  waste  plantations,  but  an  irritating  whirlwind  of 
fretful  faultfinding  —  a  tempest  in  the  domestic  tea- 
pot of  the  Meeks  household.  These  storms  were  not 
infrequent.  They  came  periodically,  raged  furious- 
ly, and  died  out  suddenly.  Each  began  as  a  freshen- 
ing breeze,  grew  to  a  howling  hurricane,  and  ended 
in  a  downpour  of  tears.  It  took  but  little  to  start 
one ;  the  fall  of  a  few  degrees  in  the  domestic  barom- 
eter, the  meeting  of  two  countercurrents  of  connu- 
bial opinion  —  and  the  storm  was  on.  They  came 
always  from  one  direction  —  from  the  quarter  of  the 
compass  occupied  by  Mrs.  Meeks. 

Strange  as  it  may  seem,  on  these  occasions  Isaac 
Meeks  sought  refuge  outdoors.  Let  the  weather 
be  what  it  might,  he  preferred  the  howling  elements 
without  to  the  howling  spouse  within. 

He  was  well  named  —  meekness  personified  — 
and  was  philosopher  enough  to  know  that  the  way  to 
avoid  a  storm  is  to  get  out  of  its  track.  On  this  par- 
ticular occasion,  he  had  left  the  house  as  soon  as  he 
had  discovered  that  the  mercury  had  fallen  one  de- 
gree. Leaning  against  the  sunny  side  of  the  stable, 
(58) 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  59 

he  was  drawing  whiffs  of  consolation  from  his  corn- 
cob pipe. 

He  had  escaped  none  too  soon.  He  could  hear  oc- 
casional outbursts,  as  he  sat  with  his  back  against  the 
log  stable.  Marie  was  the  innocent  cause  of  the 
falling  barometer  and  consequent  disturbance  of  the 
elements ;  and  toward  the  hapless  girl  was  directed 
the  full  force  of  Nancy  Meeks'  cyclone  of  rage  and 
abuse.  The  niece  had  not  returned  from  the  spring 
as  soon  as  her  aunt  had  reason  to  expect. 

"  A  purty  gal,  you  are,  Marie  Fontanelle !  You 
ain't  worth  y'r  salt  —  not  by  half!  "  the  irate  female 
shouted  at  the  top  of  her  voice.  "  Send  you  to  the 
spring  an'  tell  you  to  hurry,  an'  you're  gone  a  half 
day  a'most.  Me  a  waitin'  here  fer  that  water,  an' 
you  —  you  good-fer-nothin' —  settin'  down  there  on 
the  bank,  a  dreamin'  y'r  foolish  dreams  o'  love! 
Ain't  you  'shamed  o'  y'rself  —  say  ?  " 

"  Aunt  Nancy  —  '  Marie  began  soothingly ;  but 
that  was  as  far  as  she  got. 

"  Shut  up  —  shut  right  up !  "  interrupted  the 
older  woman,  shaking  her  hard  and  horny  fist  at 
the  other.  "  Don't  you  dare  to  give  me  none  o'  y'r 
sass !  All  you're  fit  fer  is  to  be  a  burden  on  some- 
body. Jest  think  of  y'r  mother,  an'  the  trouble  she 
brung  on  the  fam'ly.  I'd  think  it'd  be  a  lesson  to 
you !  But  no,  here  you  are,  startin'  off  the  same 
way.  You  don't  seem  to  'predate  a  good  home. 
It's  in  you  though  —  who  could  'xpect  anything  else 


60  IN  THE  DA  YS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

of  a  Meeks,  or  anyone  that  has  a  drop  o'  the  Meeks 
blood  in  the'r  veins !  " 

She  paused  for  breath.  Marie  sat  staring  through 
the  window,  and  said  nothing.  This  so  enraged 
Mrs.  Meeks,  that  she  seemed  in  imminent  danger 
of  an  apoplectic  seizure.  She  literally  gnashed  her 
teeth. 

"  Why  don't  you  answer  me,  you  sullen,  poutin' 
thing  ?  "  she  foamed,  stamping  her  foot  and  rolling 
the  sleeves  of  her  linsey-woolsey  dress  above  her 
bony  elbows. 

Marie  essayed  to  speak,  but  her  aunt  stopped  her 
with: 

"  Don't  say  a  word  —  not  a  single  word !  I  won't 
have  it  —  d'  you  hear?  Set  there  an'  pout  if  you 
want  to !  You're  jest  like  y'r  uncle  —  'fraid  to  take 
y'r  own  part ;  just  like  all  the  Meekses !  An'  you're 
bound  to  git  into  trouble  —  that's  what  you  are  — 
jest  like  y'r  mother  did  afore  you !  An'  then  what'll 
you  do?  You  can't  stay  here,  if  anything  happens 
to  you.  I  won't  be  disgraced  by  you.  I've  talked 
and  talked  till  my  tongue's  tired.  You've  had  fair 
warnin'  —  but  you  won't  listen  to  nothin' !  " 

Marie  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and  wept 
silently,  not  because  her  aunt  had  scolded  her  — she 
was  used  to  that  —  but  because  Mrs.  Meeks  had 
spoken  disrespectfully  of  Paul  and  of  her  dear  dead 
mother.  A  rapid  change  came  over  the  angry  wom- 
an, as  she  looked  upon  the  weeping  girl.  Her  storm 
of  passion  subsided  as  suddenly  as  it  had  arisen. 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  61 

Her  features  began  to  twitch,  and  her  angular  frame 
shook  with  suppressed  sobs.  Two  bright  tears  es- 
caped from  the  corners  of  her  eyes  and  rolled  down 
her  furrowed  cheeks  —  and  then  she  gave  up  the 
struggle  and  cried  blubberingly.  By  some  myster- 
ious process  of  reasoning,  she  persuaded  herself  that 
she  was  the  injured  party. 

"That's  just  the  way  with  you,  Marie!"  she 
wailed,  wringing  her  hands  and  pacing  up  and  down 
the  floor.  "  I  can't  say  a  word  to  you  —  not  one 
word  —  that  you  don't  let  on  that  I've  hurt  y'r  feel- 
in's.  An'  you  know  I  didn't  mean  to  do  anything  o' 
the  kind.  I've  got  a  bad  temper  —  I  know  I  have  — 
but  I'm  put  upon  from  mornin'  to  night,  from  one 
year's  end  to  another.  Then  if  I  say  a  word,  y'r 
Uncle  Isaac  runs  out  o'  the  house  an'  you  break 
down  an'  bawl.  I  know  I  oughtn't  to  scold  you  an' 
say  mean  things  about  you  —  you're  a  good  gal  — 
but  I  didn't  mean  it.  Marie  —  you  know  I  didn't ! 
I  jest  can't  bear  to  see  you  fooled  by  that  'ristocratic 
upstart  —  that's  all.  Fergit  that  I  ever  said  any- 
thing 'bout  y'r  mother,  gal ;  she  was  a  nice  woman 
—  but  she  got  fooled  into  marryin'  a  Frenchman ;  an' 
I  don't  want  to  stand  by  and  see  you  made  a  fool  of 
fer  life.  I  jest  can't — I  can't !  " 

She  strode  over  to  Marie,  and  flinging  her  mus- 
cular arms  around  the  girl's  neck,  tenderly  kissed 
her  brow  and  golden  hair,  murmuring: 

"  You're  my  oldest  gal  —  I  can't  never  look  on 
you  in  no  other  way ;  an'  I'm  all  the  mother  you've 


62  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R 

got.  I'm  sorry  I  scolded  you  an'  made  you  cry  — 
but  I  don't  scold  you  any  more'n  I  do  the  others,  do 
I?  Tell  me  that  you'll  fergive  an'  fergit  all  I've 
said  an'  done !  " 

Marie  kissed  the  careworn  face  of  her  aunt,  and 
assured  her  she  freely  and  fully  forgave  her.  She 
knew  that  the  poor  woman's  lot  was  a  grinding  one, 
and  that  her  contrition  was  genuine.  The  storm  was 
past,  and  the  sun  was  shining  from  a  cloudless  sky. 

A  moment  later  the  door  opened  a  few  inches,  and 
Mr.  Meeks  timidly  thrust  his  head  into  the  room. 
Marie  was  removing  the  fragrant  corn-pone  from 
the  Dutch-oven  upon  the  hearth ;  and  her  Aunt 
Nancy  was  placing  the  pewter  plates  upon  the  rough 
deal  table.  Emboldened  by  what  he  saw,  the  re- 
doubtable Isaac  —  .who  had  the  courage  to  attack  a 
mountain  lion  single-handed,  but  who  had  a  whole- 
some fear  of  his  wife's  displeasure  —  pushed  first 
one  foot  and  then  its  fellow  through  the  aperture  he 
had  made,  and  stood  within  the  room.  Mrs.  Meeks, 
turning  suddenly,  caught  sight  of  her  husband 
standing  near  the  door,  irresolution  depicted  upon 
his  countenance. 

"  Set  down,  Isaac,"  she  remarked,  pleasantly ; 
"  dinner'll  be  ready  in  a  few  minutes." 

The  words  had  a  reassuring  effect  upon  the  hun- 
ter, but  he  did  not  sit  down.  Instead,  he  uneasily 
shifted  from  one  foot  to  the  other  as  he  essayed  to 
catch  his  wife's  eye,  all  the  while  fumbling  and  turn- 
ing a  white  object  he  held  in  his  hands.  Failing  to 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  63 

attract  her  attention,  he  cleared  his  throat  and  fal- 
tered : 

"  Nancy,  I  — that  is,  would  you  jest  step  out  here 
a  minute  ?  I  want  to  speak  to  you." 

Mrs.  Meeks  was  surprised.  He  was  not  in  the 
habit  of  consulting  her  in  regard  to  his  affairs. 

"  Well,  what  d'  you  want  ?  Out  with  it  —  an' 
don't  stand  there  gawkin'  like  a  luny !  "  Her  nerves 
were  still  on  edge,  and  his  indirect  methods  of  pro- 
cedure irritated  her. 

"  Step  out  here ;  I  want  to  see  you  a  little  bit,"  he 
managed  to  say. 

"  Can't  you  see  me  here  ?  " 

"  Xo ;  I  want  to  see  you  alone." 

"  Well,  of  all  things ! "  she  ejaculated,  rolling 
down  her  sleeves  and  starting  toward  the  door. 
"  What  in  the  nation  ails  the  man  !  " 

Mr.  Meeks  led  the  way  and  she  followed  him. 
Stepping  out  upon  the  log  steps,  she  closed  the 
heavy  door  after  her  and  awaited  his  pleasure. 

"  Nancy,"  he  began  impressively  and  in  a  semi- 
whisper,  "  here's  a  letter ;  an'  the  nigger  that  fetched 
it  says — " 

"  What  nigger?"  she  interrupted  sharply,  glanc- 
ing around  the  corner  of  the  house. 

"  That'n  out  there  on  the  horse,"  he  answered 
jerking  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder,  toward  the 
stable. 

She  looked  in  the  direction  indicated  and  saw  a 
negro  seated  upon  a  gray  horse,  just  beyond  the 


64  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

woodpile.  The  horse  was  champing  the  bit  and  paw- 
ing the  soft  earth  impatiently,  but  the  rider  sat  with 
half-closed  eyes,  as  motionless  as  a  figure  of  polished 
ebony. 

"  Who  is  he  ?  "  Nancy  inquired  in  a  low,  cautious 
tone. 

"  One  o'  the  Lovelace  slaves,"  came  the  reply  in 
the  same  guarded  undertone. 

"  You  say  he  brung  a  letter  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"Who  from?" 

"  Mrs.  Lovelace ;  an'  he  says  we  ain't  to  let  any- 
body see  it  ?  " 

"  Have  you  read  it?" 

"  I  tried  to,  but  I  can't  spell  it  all  out." 

He  handed  it  to  her,  and  watched  her  eagerly  as 
she  struggled  through  the  labyrinth  of  unfamiliar 
characters.  She  spelled  it  out  word  by  word,  halt- 
ing and  stammering  painfully.  The  letter  ran  as 
follows : 
"  Mr.  Isaac  Meeks  and  Wife : 

"  I  desire  that  you  come  to  see  me  at  once.  I  wish 
to  confer  with  you  in  regard  to  a  matter  that  is 
occasioning  me  a  great  deal  of  annoyance  and  anx- 
iety. I  can  assure  you  that  you  are  equally  inter- 
ested with  myself.  It  means  money  in  your  pockets 
to  come.  Come  today  —  and  let  no  one  see  this  com- 
munication or  know  your  destination.  It  will  be 
necessary  that  you  stay  over  night  with  me ;  arrange 
your  household  affairs  accordingly.  A  conveyance 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  65 

is  in  waiting  at  the  Rock  Spring.  Hoping  to  have 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  this  evening,  I  am  your 
most  obedient  servant, 

"  CAROLINE  LOVELACE." 

Nancy  Meeks  could  not  decipher  the  whole  of  the 
missive,  nor  fathom  the  meaning  of  it  to  her  entire 
satisfaction ;  but  she  gleaned  from  it  that  the  writer 
wished  to  see  her  husband  and  herself  upon  impor- 
tant business,  at  once.  Also,  in  a  vague  sort  of  way, 
she  realized  that  it  was  necessary  to  observe  great 
secrecy  —  and  best  of  all,  the  letter  mentioned 
money!  She  was  trembling  with  excitement,  and 
the  paper  shook  in  her  knotty  hands.  She  spelled  it 
through  again,  to  make  sure  that  she  had  read  aright. 
Yes,  there  was  no  mistake !  It  said  "  money  in  your 
pockets."  Money!  Was  the  dream  of  her  sordid 
life  to  be  realized  at  last?  She  clutched  the  bit  of 
white  paper  spasmodically,  as  though  she  already 
had  a  pile  of  glittering  yellow  coins  within  her  grasp. 
Isaac's  patience  gave  way,  and  he  broke  in  upon  her 
blissful  reverie  by  asking : 

"  What  do  you  make  out  of  it  ?  " 

"  It's  a  letter  from  Caroline  Lovelace  —  the  rich 
woman  in  the  valley,"  she  answered,  setting  her 
arms  akimbo  and  looking  her  husband  full  in  the 
face. 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  but  what  does  she  want  ?  " 

"  Wants  us  to  come  an'  see  her  on  business." 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  " 

"  Yes." 
5 


66  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  Maybe  you're  right  —  I  couldn't  jest  make  it 
out.  What's  up,  do  you  s'pose?" 

"  I  don't  know ;  but  I  s'pect  it's  somethin'  'bout 
that  there  nephew  o'  hers,  an'  our  Marie." 

Mr.  Meeks  looked  puzzled,  and  meditatively 
scratched  his  head.  He  could  not  understand  what 
he  or  his  wife  had  to  do  with  Paul  Graydon's  af- 
fairs. If  Paul  wanted  to  marry  Marie,  he,  Isaac, 
had  not  the  slightest  objection.  It  was  a  mistake 
for  people  to  marry  at  all  —  he  admitted  that  —  but 
then  they  would  do  it !  Paul  and  Marie  had  a  per- 
fect right  to  make  fools  of  themselves,  if  they  so 
desired !  Isaac  failed  to  comprehend  what  his  wife 
meant,  and  so  expressed  himself. 

"  It  don't  make  no  differ'nce  whether  you  under- 
stand 'r  not,"  was  the  decided  answer  of  Nancy ; 
"  we're  goin'  down  to  see  Mrs.  Lovelace  this  very 
day.  Tell  the  nigger  we'll  be  along  in  an  hour  'r 
so  —  ther's  a  carriage  waitin'  fer  us  at  the  Rock 
Spring.  Be  spry,  now;  we  must  hurry  up  an'  git 
ready." 

Mr.  Meeks  went  to  deliver  his  wife's  message  to 
the  waiting  slave,  while  she  entered  the  cabin  and 
began  hurried  preparations  for  their  departure.  She 
arrayed  herself  in  her  best  hood  and  linsey-woolsey 
gown,  carefully  brushed  and  smoothed  her  coarse 
iron-gray  hair,  greased  her  heavy  shoes  with  bear's 
grease  —  and  announced  herself  as  ready.  The  easy- 
going Isaac  would  have  dispensed  with  ablution  and 
toilet,  had  not  the  good  wife  taken  him  in  hand.  She 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  67 

scrubbed  his  wrinkled  face  and  neck,  combed  his 
sparse  hair  and  straggling  beard,  and  compelled  him 
to  don  a  clean  hunting  shirt.  Then  she  stood  back 
and  looked  upon  her  handiwork,  admiringly. 

The  two  children,  Johnnie  and  Annie,  viewed 
these  preparations  in  open-eyed  wonder;  and  snuf- 
fled and  pouted  when  they  were  informed  that  they 
could  not  accompany  their  parents.  Marie  evinced 
unbounded  surprise  and  not  a  little  consternation, 
when  told  that  her  uncle  and  aunt  would  be  away 
over  night. 

She  racked  her  brain  for  an  explanation  of  their 
strange  behavior,  but  could  come  to  no  satisfactory 
conclusion,  and  contented  herself  with  helping  her 
aunt  to  get  ready  for  the  journey. 

Hester  Lovelace  met  the  mountaineer  and  his  wife 
at  the  gate;  and  Mrs.  Lovelace  greeted  them  cor- 
dially—  not  to  say  effusively.  When  husband  and 
spouse  found  themselves  in  the  big  mansion  —  fur- 
nished in  such  grandeur  and  splendor  as  the  two 
never  had  known  —  they  were  somewhat  abashed ; 
but  their  hostess  and  her  daughter  exerted  them- 
selves to  put  them  at  their  ease,  and  succeeded  so 
well  that  Isaac  and  Nancy  soon  felt  perfectly  at 
home.  After  a  time  Nancy  grew  tired  of  admir- 
ing the  many  things  about  her,  of  asking  innu- 
merable questions  in  regard  to  each,  and  of  ejac- 
ulating her  wonderment  at  the  answers  she  received. 
She  fidgeted  in  her  chair,  and,  at  last,  broached  the 
object  of  her  visit,  by  saying: 


68  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  Me  an'  Isaac  here  got  a  letter  from  you,  Mrs. 
Lovelace,  askin'  us  to  come  down  an'  see  you  on 
some  business ;  an'  as  far's  I'm  c'ncerned,  I'm  ready 
to  talk  it  over  right  at  once." 

The  mistress  of  the  mansion  smiled  amiably  and 
replied : 

"  There's  no  hurry.  Supper  will  be  ready  soon ; 
after  that's  over  we  can  talk  at  our  leisure  —  we 
have  the  whole  night  before  us." 

The  practical  Nancy  was  impatient  to  know  some- 
thing definite  of  the  business  in  hand  —  especially 
of  the  money  Mrs.  Lovelace  had  mentioned.  How- 
ever, she  grimly  bided  her  time. 


CHAPTER  VII 

»»T  SENT  for  you" — Mrs.  Lovelace  was  speaking 

1  — "  because  I  wished  to  talk  over  with  you, 
something  in  which  we're  all  interested ;  yet  I  hardly 
know  how  to  bee 

She  waited  for  a  word  of  encouragement;  bat 
neither  Isaac  nor  Xancy  felt  called  upon  to  speak. 
The  former  sat  gazing  into  the  red  embers  at  his 
feet,  a  vacant,  far-away  look  upon  his  face.  One 
hand  fumbled  in  the  bosom  of  his  hunting  shirt  and 
the  other  plucked  nervously  at  his  straggling  beard. 
A  strange,  lost  feeling  held  possession  of  him.  He 
hardly  knew  what  it  meant  —  yes,  he  did!  He 
wanted  to  smoke.  He  had  not  had  recourse  to  his 
one  source  of  comfort  and  consolation  —  his  corn- 
cob pipe  —  since  the  middle  of  the  afternoon.  The 
more  he  pondered  the  more  importunate  and  irre- 
sistible became  his  desire.  Mrs.  Lovelace  noticed 

-  Crowing  uneasiness  and  shrewdly  guessed  the 
cause.  The  smell  of  tobacco  was  distasteful  to  her ; 
but  she  did  not  intend  to  let  anything  stand  in  the 
way  of  her  using  these  people  to  further  the  end  she 
had  in  view,  so  she  said : 

"  Light  your  pipe.  Mr.  Meeks,  and  smoke  while 
I  talk.  I  was  just  going  to  say  —  " 

(69) 


70  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  Hold  on  a  minute !  "  interrupted  Nancy. 

And  diving-  into  the  profound  depths  of  the  pocket 
of  her  gown,  she  fished  up  a  short-stemmed  pipe  and 
a  quantity  of  loose  tobacco.  Isaac  procured  like  ar- 
ticles from  the  cavernous  interior  of  his  hunting 
shirt,  filled  the  bowl  of  his  pipe,  dexterously  dipped 
a  glowing  coal  from  the  ashes  upon  the  hearth, 
pressed  it  into  place  with  the  ball  of  his  horny  thumb, 
and  settled  back  in  his  chair,  perfect  content  pictured 
upon  his  bland  countenance.  Nancy  went  through 
a  series  of  similar  maneuvers,  stuck  the  short  stem 
into  the  corner  of  her  mouth,  and  leaning  forward, 
with  her  elbows  upon  her  knees,  puffed  vigorously 
for  a  few  seconds.  Then  she  removed  the  pipe  from 
her  lips,  spat  upon  the  hearth,  and  ejaculated : 

"  Now  I'm  all  ready ;  go  on  with  what  you  was 
goin'  to  say." 

Hester,  sitting  back  in  the  shadow,  curled  her  thin 
lips  in  silent  contempt,  and  waited  impatiently  for 
her  mother  to  begin.  The  latter  smothered  a  cough 
occasioned  by  the  pungent  smoke  of  the  partly  cured 
tobacco  and  resumed: 

"As  you've  guessed,  perhaps,  I  wish  to  talk  of 
my  nephew  and  your  niece." 

She  paused  a  moment,  to  watch  the  effect  of  her 
words ;  but,  noting  no  change  in  the  impassive  coun- 
tenances of  her  guests,  she  continued :  "  It  has  come 
to  my  knowledge  within  the  last  few  days,  that 
Paul's  paying  attention  to  the  young  woman  who 
lives  with  you ;  and  it  pains  and  mortifies  me  to  say 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  71 

that  he  —  my  own  nephew  —  has  no  honorable  mo- 
tive in  so  doing.  Like  many  another  young  man, 
he's  thinking  only  of  his  own  amusement.  It  affords 
me  no  pleasure  to  say  this  of  my  nephew,  whom  I 
love,  but  it  is  the  solemn  truth." 

Again  Mrs.  Lovelace  hesitated.  She  wanted  to  be 
sure  of  her  ground  before  venturing  too  far.  Nancy 
Meeks  did  not  change  her  position.  Isaac,  on  the 
other  hand,  was  visibly  affected.  He  stirred  un- 
easily in  his  chair  and  nervously  tapped  the  hearth 
with  the  toe  of  his  heavy  boot.  Mrs.  Lovelace, 
keenly  scrutinizing  the  two,  saw  Mr.  Meeks'  grow- 
ing restlessness,  and,  fearing  he  would  offer  opposi- 
tion if  she  did  not  handle  him  very  carefully,  said : 

"  Perhaps  you  know  more  of  this  unfortunate  af- 
fair than  I,  Mr.  Meeks.  If  you  do,  will  you  not 
enlighten  me?  " 

Isaac  crossed  one  nether  limb  over  the  knee  of  the 
other,  and  reflectively  caressed  his  boot-leg,  as  he 
replied : 

"  I  ain't  certain  I  know  much  'bout  the  matter,  one 
way  r'  t'other;  an'  I  don't  see  as  it  makes  much 
diff'rence,  either.  Course  marriages  're  unfortu- 
nate, more  'r  less,  take  'em  as  they  come ;  but  I  don't 
know  as  this  one  'Id  be  any  more  unfortunate  than 
any  other  one.  If  Mr.  Paul  an'  our  Marie  wants  to 
git  married,  I  don't  know  no  reason  why  me  V 
Nancy  ought  to  object  —  w e  got  married  when  we 
got  ready,  an'  didn't  ask  nobody.  Our  marriage 
was  a  partic'lar  unfortunate  one  —  " 


72  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

The  wife  of  his  bosom  straightened  her  tall  form 
and,  fixing  upon  him  a  look  of  unutterable  scorn, 
cried : 

"  Isaac  Meeks,  not  another  word !  You're  a  'tar- 
nal  fool  fer  the  want  'o  good  sense  —  that's  what 
you  are ! " 

The  husband  promptly  relapsed  into  silence  and 
devoted  his  undivided  attention  to  his  pipe,  which 
had  gone  out  while  he  was  talking.  Mrs.  Meeks  re- 
sumed her  former  position,  knocked  the  ashes  from 
the  heated  bowl  that  she  held  in  her  fingers,  by  tap- 
ping  it  upon  the  hearthstone,  and,  with  her  square 
jaws  firmly  set,  stared  hard  at  the  glowing  fire, 
as  though  it  were  the  guilty  offender.  Hester 
turned  her  face  to  hide  the  smile  she  could  not  sup- 
press ;  while  her  mother  bit  her  lips  in  vexation.  An 
embarrassing  silence  ensued,  to  relieve  which  Mrs, 
Lovelace  tentatively  inquired: 

"  Mr.  Meeks,  you  don't  believe  my  nephew  intends 
to  marry  your  niece,  do  you  ?  " 

Isaac  nodded  his  head  vigorously  as  he  replied, 
"  Of  course  I  believe  he's  goin'  to  marry  'er ;  else 
why'd  he  be  courtin'  'er?  That's  what  I  want  to 
know.  He  comes  to  see  'er  purty  reg'lar,  an'  all  on 
his  own  hook  —  nobody  makes  him  come.  I  ain't 
no  doubt  him  an'  Marie  likes  each  other  —  not  a 
mite  o'  doubt;  an'  if  they  want  to  git  married,  let 
'em  git  married.  What  makes  you  think  he  hain't 
no  notion  of  marryin'  Marie?  " 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  73 

Mrs.  Lovelace  was  not  displeased  at  the  answer 
she  had  received. 

"  Mr.  Meeks,"  she  replied,  "  I  wish  to  answer 
your  question  —  and  to  answer  it  fully.  To  do  so 
I  must  talk  plainly;  and  I  trust  that  in  so  doing  I 
shall  not  offend  you.  Paul  will  never  marry  your 
niece,  for  several  reasons.  In  the  first  place,  he  is 
poor,  and  must  marry  for  money.  He  can't  afford 
to  do  otherwise.  In  the  second  place,  he  doesn't 
love  Miss  Fontanelle  —  he  is  deceiving  her.  Be- 
sides, young  men  who  are  descendants  of  the  best 
English  families  aren't  in  the  habit  of  marrying  so 
far  beneath  them." 

Mrs.  Lovelace  paused  abruptly,  for  Nancy's  eyes, 
in  which  a  dangerous  fire  flashed,  were  turned  full 
upon  her. 

"  She's  jest  as  good  as  he  is  —  an'  better !  "  the 
latter  hissed  between  her  teeth.  Mrs.  Lovelace 
raised  her  thin  white  hand  in  protestation,  but  the 
angry  woman  went  on: 

"  An'  if  you  think  you  can  set  there  an'  belittle 
'er,  an'  me  not  say  a  word,  you're  badly  mistaken 
—  that's  all!  I  won't  listen  to  it!  I'll  walk  every 
step  o'  the  way  home  tonight,  before  I'll  hear  my  gal 
run  down  by  you  'r  anybody  else  —  so  there !  " 

The  English  woman  was  perfectly  cool  as  she  re- 
plied :  "  There,  there,  my  good  woman !  I  didn't 
mean  to  speak  disparagingly  of  your  niece  —  not 
at  all.  You  misunderstood  me.  I  agree  with  you 
that  Miss  Fontanelle  is  far  better  than  my  nephew ; 


74  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

for  in  many  respects  he's  not  what  he  should  be. 
And  it  was  to  warn  you  against  him  and  his  vicious 
propensities,  that  I  called  you  here.  To  make  you 
understand  clearly  that  he  will  not  marry  your 
niece  —  cannot  marry  her,  if  he  would  —  I've  but 
to  tell  you  that  he's  already  betrothed  to  another, 
whom  he'll  wed  in  the  near  future." 

"  An'  he's  goin'  to  marry  your  daughter  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Meeks,  it  matters  little  whom  he's  to  wed, 
so  long  as  he  can't  wed  your  niece.  My  husband 
and  I  have  reared  and  educated  Paul ;  and  I  look 
upon  him  as  a  son.  I  do  not  want  him  to  bring  dis- 
grace and  sorrow  to  me  and  mine;  nor  do  I  want 
him  to  work  ruin  to  you  and  yours.  This  attach- 
ment between  him  and  Miss  Fontanelle  must  be 
sundered.  They  must  be  separated,  to  meet  no 
more." 

"  I  ain't  goin'  to  take  no  part  a-separatin'  'em," 
said  Isaac,  obstinately  shaking  his  head. 

"  Do  shut  up,  Isaac ! "  Mrs.  Meeks  interjected. 
"You  don't  know  nothin'  'bout  this  thing.  Hain't 
I  told  you  all  along  that  Mr.  Paul  never  meant  to 
marry  Marie  ?  An'  now  you  see  I  was  right.  You 
thought  I  was  hard  on  the  gal,  'cause  I  scolded  'er 
an'  told  'er  not  to  make  a  dunce  of  'erself,  'bout  a 
man  that  didn't  keer  a  straw  fer  'er ;  but  now  you'll 
shut  y'r  mouth,  I  reckon.  I  was  doin'  'er  a  motherly 
kindness  all  the  time  —  but  I  got  blamed  fer  it,  jest 
as  I  do  fer  everything.  I  hope  now  you'll  shut  y'r 
mouth  an'  have  some  sense," 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  75 

Then  turning  to  Mrs.  Lovelace,  Nancy  con- 
tinued : 

"  What  d'  you  mean  by  separatia'  'em?  Do  you 
think  o'  sendin'  y'r  nephew  out  o'  the  neighbor- 
hood?" 

Mrs.  Lovelace  smothered  her  rising  ire  at  the 
impudent  question,  and  quietly  replied: 

"  Willingly  would  I  send  Paul  away,  if  I  could ; 
but  that's  impossible.  He's  a  hot-blooded  young 
man,  and  will  go  his  own  gait.  Unless  Miss  Fon- 
tanelle  is  removed  from  his  sight  and  reach,  he'll 
bring  disgrace  and  sorrow  upon  us  all." 

Isaac  grasped  the  arms  of  his  chair  and  planted 
his  feet  squarely  upon  the  floor  —  but  said  noth- 
ing. Nancy's  face  flushed,  and  she  cried  hotly: 

"  A  purty  neighbor  you  are,  Mrs.  Lovelace ! 
Askin'  us  to  drive  our  gal  away  from  all  the  home 
she's  got,  jest  to  'commodate  you  an'  yours.  We 
shan't  do  nothin'  o'  the  kind ! " 

The  English  woman  smiled  more  sweetly  than 
ever,  as  she  answered  suavely : 

"  You  persist  in  misconstruing  my  language,  my 
good  woman.  I've  said  that  I'd  send  my  nephew 
away,  if  I  could.  That's  out  of  the  question  — 
I've  no  influence  over  his  actions.  But  for  the 
good  of  all,  these  two  must  be  parted.  I  don't  ask 
that  you  drive  your  niece  from  home,  but  that  you 
leave  this  section,  taking  her  with  you.  Wait! 
I'm  not  through.  If  you'll  leave  the  state  at  once 
—  within  a  few  days  —  letting  no  one  know  your 


76  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

destination,  and  pledging  yourselves  never  to  re- 
turn, I'll  buy  your  land  and  pay  you  well  for  going-. 
You  have  everything  to  gain  and  nothing  to  lose, 
by  doing  what  I  suggest.  With  the  money  I'll 
pay  you,  you  can  buy  a  larger  farm  and  can  live 
much  better  than  you  do  here.  Beside,  you'll  be 
saving  yourselves  no  end  of  trouble  and  will  be 
doing  your  niece  a  kindness  —  though  she  may  not 
see  it  in  that  light.  What  have  you  to  say  to  my 
proposition?" 

Isaac  looked  anxiously  at  his  wife.  He  knew 
from  bitter  experience  that  she  would  have  her 
way  in  this  case,  as  in  all  others.  The  fondest 
desire  of  his  honest  heart  was  to  live  in  peace  with 
all  mankind.  His  cabin  on  the  mountain  side  had 
been  his  peaceful  home  for  years  —  and  to  the  sim- 
ple-minded man  there  was  no  spot  on  earth  like  it. 

But  Nancy !  She  was  energetic  and  ambitious ; 
for  years  she  had  been  teasing  him  to  seek  another 
location.  He  sighed  deeply  at  the  thought,  as  he 
watched  his  wife's  face  light  up  with  eager  excite- 
ment. The  sigh  attracted  Nancy's  attention,  and 
she  turned  upon  him  angrily: 

"  Isaac  Meeks,  ain't  you  'shamed  o'  y'rself  ?  Jest 
see  the  man  settin'  there  a-sighin'  's  if  he  was  at 
his  own  funer'l ;  an'  all  'cause  he's  'fraid  he'll  have 
to  leave  that  blessed  purty  cabin  up  there  in  the 
woods !  I've  been  teasin',  an'  coaxin',  an'  torment- 
in',  all  these  years,  to  git  out  o'  here,  an'  try  an' 
make  a  decent  livin';  an'  now  when  the  chance 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  77 

comes  'round  an'  knocks  at  our  door,  he's  scared 
to  death  fer  fear  he'll  have  to  git  up  an'  dust  fer 
a  better  place.  Isaac  —  you  lazy,  good-fer-noth- 
in'!  I  don't  want  to  hear  a  word  out  o'  you  — 
not  a  word !  " 

Then,  wheeling  her  chair  toward  Mrs.  Love- 
lace and  bending  forward  until  she  peered  into  the 
latter's  face,  Mrs.  Meeks  eagerly  inquired: 

"  Was  you  in  earnest  when  you  said  you'd  buy 
us  out  an'  pay  us  fer  leavin'  the  state  an'  never 
comin'  back  ?  " 

Mrs.  Lovelace  could  scarcely  conceal  her  exul- 
tation. She  had  touched  the  right  spring  —  Nan- 
cy's cupidity  —  while  groping  blindly  in  the  dark; 
and  the  door  of  her  desires  stood  open  before  her. 
Her  temples  beat  and  her  head  swam  from  the 
sense  of  relief  that  came  over  her. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  with  an  effort.  "  I'll  buy  your 
land  at  a  fair  price  and  pay  you  for  leaving  the 
state  and  taking  your  niece  with  you.  But  you 
must  sign  a  written  agreement  that  you'll  never  re- 
turn to  this  locality ;  that  you'll  let  no  one  know 
your  destination;  that  you'll  do  all  in  your  power 
to  prevent  the  girl  from  coming  back;  and  that 
you'll  not  permit  her  to  communicate  with  my 
nephew,  in  any  way." 

"  How  much'll  you  give  us  fer  the  land  ?  " 

Mrs.  Lovelace  named  a  fair  price. 

"  Tain't  enough ! "  Isaac  broke  in.  "  An'  I 
don't  want  to  sell,  nohow  —  " 


78  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  Shut  y'r  mouth,  Isaac  Meeks ! "  Nancy  thun- 
dered. "  I'm  a-makin'  this  bargain.  You've  had 
the  say  all  along ;  an'  we've  never  prospered.  Now 
I'm  a-goin'  to  take  things  in  hand.  An'  how 
much'll  you  give  us  fer  leavin'  the  state  an'  takin' 
our  gal  with  us,  Mrs.  Lovelace  ?  " 

"  Fifty  pounds  in  English  gold,"  the  latter  an- 
swered, after  a  moment's  thought. 

"  Fifty  pounds  in  gold  ?  Mrs.  Lovelace,  me  an' 
Isaac  accepts  y'r  offer  —  don't  we,  Isaac  ?  " 

"  I  s'pose  we  do,  if  you  say  so ! "  he  answered  in 
a  low  tone. 

"  When  can  we  'ave  the  papers  drawed  up  ? " 
Nancy  continued,  again  addressing  Mrs.  Love- 
lace. 

"  Tomorrow." 

"  When'll  this  money  be  paid  over  to  me?  " 

"  The  money  for  the  land  will  be  given  to  you 
when  the  deed's  drawn  and  signed." 

"An'  the  other?" 

"  I'll  give  you  that  when  you  drive  by  my  house, 
on  your  way  out  of  the  state." 

"  Then  it's  a  bargain ;  an'  I'll  jest  smoke  another 
pipe  on  it,  'fore  I  go  to  bed." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

AT  nine  o'clock  the  next  morning1,  the  papers 
were  drawn,  signed  and  witnessed ;  and  the 
agreement  was  closed.  Isaac  and  Nancy  —  the  for- 
mer depressed,  the  latter  elated  —  wended  their 
way  homeward,  arriving  a  little  after  noon.  Nancy 
wasted  no  time  in  tersely  informing  her  niece  of 
the  proposed  change  of  residence. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Aunt  Nancy  ?  "  Marie  cried 
in  great  surprise. 

"  Mean  jest  what  I  say.  We're  goin'  to  move 
to  another  place,  where  we  can  do  better'n  we've 
ever  done  here." 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

"  Don't  say  'you,'  say  'we,' "  snapped  Nancy ;  "fer 
we're  all  a-goin'.  I  don't  know  jest  where  yit,  but 
over  into  Pennsylvany,  I  s'pect." 

"  How  soon  're  you  going  to  start,  Aunt  ?  " 

"  Ther'  you  go  ag'in ! "  pettishly  whined  Mrs. 
Meeks.  "  A  body  'Id  think  from  y'r  talk  you  had 
a  fortune  o'  y'r  own,  and  didn't  'ave  to  live  with 
me  an'  y'r  uncle.  I  reckon  you'll  go  along  with 
us,  Miss  Independence?" 

Marie  dropped  her  eyes,  as  she  stammered :  "  I 
—  don't  know.  I  — " 

(79) 


8o  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

11  Well,  of  all  things ! "  interrupted  Nancy,  with 
a  snort  of  anger.  "  Jest  listen  at  the  silly  gal ! 
If  you  don't  go  with  us,  what  in  the  world  will 
you  do?  Where'll  you  stay?  You  can't  live  here 
all  by  y'rself  —  an'  the  cabin's  sold,  anyhow. 
'Course  you'll  go  along  with  us  —  you  can't  do 
nothin'  else." 

"  Perhaps  I  could  obtain  employment  with  some 
family  in  the  valley,"  Marie  suggested. 

"  P'rhaps  you  could,  an'  p'rhaps  you  couldn't !  " 
sneered  her  aunt.  "  But  you  ain't  a-going'  to  —  so 
there !  I  know  what  you  want.  You  want  to  stay 
'round  here,  thinkin'  that  Paul  Graydon  11  come 
back  and  marry  you.  He'll  never  do  nothin'  o' 
the  kind.  He's  engaged  to  a  rich  woman  —  a 
woman  of  his  own  station  in  life.  I've  found  out 
somethin'  'bout  that  young  man.  Jest  as  I've  alluz 
told  you,  he  don't  care  nothin'  fer  you.  There! 
Cry  like  a  baby !  " —  Marie  was  not  crying,  but 
unshed  tears  were  standing  in  her  eyes. 

"  But  when  are  —  are  —  we  going?  "  faltered  the 
niece. 

"  Jest  as  soon  as  we  can  git  ready  —  in  a  week 
'r  such  a  matter  at  the  most." 

"  Why  are  you  in  such  haste,  Aunt  Nancy  ?  " 

Mrs.  Meeks  was  considerably  mollified  as  she 
replied : 

"  Got  to  move  right  away,  child,  'fore  the  roads 
breaks  up.  Winter'll  soon  be  here." 

"  Couldn't  you  wait  a  few  weeks  ?  " 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  81 

"  By  no  means,  gal !      What  ails  you  ?  " 

Marie  threw  her  plump  arms  around  her  aunt, 
and,  looking-  up  into  the  rugged  face  that  bent 
above  her,  pleaded :  "  Oh,  let  me  stay  here,  Aunt 
Nancy  —  anywhere !  Please  — please  do  not  take 
me  away  for  a  few  weeks!  Paul  has  promised 
to  come  back  to  me  in  that  length  of  time." 

Mrs.  Meeks'  face  softened  perceptibly,  as  she 
gazed  upon  the  pleading  girl ;  but  her  voice  was 
firm. 

"  It  won't  do !  I  pity  you,  Marie,  but  I  can't 
listen  to  no  talk  like  that.  Did  he  say  he'd  come 
back  to  you  in  two  'r  three  weeks  ?  " 

Marie  hesitated.  "  No,  not  exactly  that ;  but 
he  promised  to  come  for  me  as  soon  as  he  could 
make  a  home  for  us.  Oh,  he'll  come,  aunt,  I  know 
he  will !  Do  let  me  stay  here  —  I  can  find  em- 
ployment! And  what  '11  he  think,  if  I  run  away 
and  leave  him !  " 

Pleadings  and  arguments  proving  unavailing,  the 
subject  was  dropped;  and  the  various  members  of 
the  family  began  to  prepare  for  their  departure. 
Isaac  sighed  lugubriously  as  he  shuffled  about  his 
work,  and  surreptitiously  wiped  away  the  truant 
tears  that  escaped  from  the  inner  corners  of  his 
watery  eyes  and  dangled  from  the  end  of  his  prom- 
inent nose.  Nancy  was  in  the  best  of  spirits ;  and 
the  two  children  were  jubilant  over  the  prospect 
of  a  change  of  scene.  Poor  Marie  was  heart- 
broken over  the  thought  of  leaving  the  neighbor- 
6 


82  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

hood,  without  Paul's  knowledge.  What  would  he 
think  when  he  returned  and  found  her  gone  ?  What 
should  she  do?  She  turned  the  matter  over  and 
over  in  her  mind,  as  she  assisted  her  aunt  in  pack- 
ing the  few  household  effects.  Should  she  run 
away  and  hide  at  some  farmer's  house  in  the  val- 
ley, until  her  relatives  had  left  the  vicinity?  It 
would  not  do;  she  knew  that  she  should  be  cap- 
tured and  brought  back  in  disgrace.  At  last  an 
idea  came  that  caused  her  to  smile  through  her 
tears.  She  would  write  a  letter  for  Paul  and  leave 
it  with  his  relatives,  asking  them  to  send  it  to  him 
when  they  learned  his  address.  Then,  when  she 
reached  her  destination,  she  would  write  him  an- 
other apprising  him  of  her  whereabouts.  This  one, 
also,  she  would  send  to  his  aunt,  to  be  given  him 
upon  his  return.  Of  course  Aunt  Nancy  would 
object  if  she  knew,  but  she  need  not  know.  With 
this  resolve,  she  felt  better  and  performed  her  du- 
ties quite  cheerfully.  To  what  bitter  disappoint- 
ment she  was  doomed! 

Mrs.  Meeks  put  forth  every  effort  to  hasten  the 
preparations  for  their  journey,  and  to  such  good 
purpose  that  on  the  third  day  after  the  signing  of 
the  articles  of  agreement,  the  entire  outfit  was 
ready  to  start. 

When  the  Lovelace  homestead  was  reached,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Meeks  entered  the  house  to  receive  the 
money.  Hester  strolled  out  to  the  wagon  and  gra- 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  83 

ciously  accosted  Marie,  who  was  holding  the  lines 
and  looking  after  the  restless  children. 

"  I  don't  know  where  we  shall  make  our  home," 
said  the  latter  in  reply  to  Hester's  question.  "  Miss 
Lovelace,  will  you  do  me  a  great  favor  ?  " 

"  If  it  be  within  my  power  —  yes." 

"  Will  you  send  this  letter  to  your  cousin,  Paul 
Graydon,  when  you  learn  his  address  ?  " 

Hester  took  the  letter  from  Marie's  hand  and 
murmured  an  inaudible  reply.  Her  face  was  scar- 
let as  she  bade  the  other  a  hasty  farewell  and  turned 
toward  the  house.  Isaac  and  Nancy  came  out  and 
climbed  into  their  places ;  the  wagon  moved  for- 
ward ;  and  the  occupants  soon  lost  sight  of  the  gray 

mansion  by  the  roadside. 

*          ******** 

Three  weeks  after  the  emigration  of  the  Meeks 
family,  Paul  and  Gumbo  returned  from  Richmond. 
The  young  man  was  dust-covered,  travel-stained 
and  weary.  He  kissed  Hester's  upturned  face,  as 
she  greeted  him ;  and  reported  the  sale  of  the  crop 
at  a  good  price,  to  his  aunt. 

"  Nothing  unusual  has  occurred  in  the  neighbor- 
hood ?  "  Paul  asked  carelessly. 

"  I'm  told  your  hunter  friend,  Isaac  Meeks,  has 
left  for  parts  unknown,"  said  Mrs.  Lovelace. 

Paul  started  and  stared  hard  at  his  relative,  as  he 
asked :  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  What  I  say,"  she  answered,  quietly ;  "  He  has 
left  this  part  of  the  country." 


84  /-V  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"When?" 

"  Almost  three  weeks  ago,  I  think." 

"  Did  —  did  he  take  his  family  with  him?  " 

"  Yes." 

"And  Marie?" 

"Yes,  all  of  them  went.  They  passed  here  on 
their  journey." 

His  lips  were  white  and  his  face  was  twitching 
as  he  inquired :  "  Where  have  they  gone?  " 

"  I  don't  know  —  and  I  don't  care,"  came  the  cold 
and  pitiless  reply.  "  They  were  poor  and  shiftless, 
and  no  credit  to  the  community.  For  your  sake, 
Paul,  I'm  glad  that  they  are  gone." 

"  Aunt  Caroline,  let  us  say  no  more  on  the  sub- 
ject," said  Paul,  a  hopeless,  haggard  look  over- 
spreading his  features.  "  We  can't  agree,  and  it's 
better  that  we  never  mention  it  again.  I'm  worn 
out  —  Fm  going  to  my  room  to  rest." 

"  Don't  you  \vant  your  supper  —  aren't  you  hun- 
gry ?  "  Hester  queried  anxiously. 

"  I'm  too  tired  to  eat,"  he  replied. 

He  went  straight  to  bed ;  but,  tired  as  he  was,  he 
could  not  sleep.  He  tossed  about  in  feverish  unrest, 
and  asked  himself  a  thousand  questions  to  not  one  of 
which  he  could  give  a  satisfactory  answer.  Marie 
had  been  taken  away  from  him !  He  buried  his  face 
in  the  pillows  and  groaned  in  agony  of  spirit.  Why 
had  the  Meeks  family  left  their  old  home  so  sudden- 
ly? Why  had  they  gone  at  all?  Where  had  they 
gone?  And  Isaac  had  pretended  to  be  his  friend! 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  85 

What  could  it  all  mean  ?  Had  they  forced  Marie  to 
accompany  them,  or  had  she  gone  of  her  own  free 
will? 

Like  an  endless  chain,  each  link  of  which  was  red 
with  fire,  these  questions  dragged  through  his  mind, 
until  he  felt  that  he  could  bear  the  torture  no  longer. 

He  descended  to  the  sitting  room  next  morning, 
looking  haggard  and  exhausted.  Hester  noted  his 
changed  appearance ;  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 
She  loved  him  dearly  in  her  fierce,  passionate  way ; 
and  she  almost  wished  she  had  not  been  instrumental 
in  bringing  upon  him  such  great  sorrow.  He  said 
but  little,  ate  a  light  breakfast,  and  mounting  his 
horse  rode  away  in  the  direction  of  the  Meeks  cabin. 

We  shall  not  follow  him  on  his  visit  to  the  desert- 
ed nest.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  he  returned  at 
nightfall,  having  ascertained  nothing  of  the  destina- 
tion of  Marie  and  her  relatives  or  of  the  cause  of 
their  sudden  departure.  The  next  morning  he  set 
out  upon  the  trail  of  the  emigrants.  For  the  first 
twenty  or  thirty  miles,  he  had  no  trouble  in  following 
them,  by  making  inquiries  of  residents  along  the 
way.  Then  his  task  became  more  difficult.  The  in- 
formation he  received  grew  vague  and  uncertain; 
and,  at  last,  he  could  glean  no  word  of  the  fugitives. 
He  gave  up  in  despair  and  retraced  his  way  home- 
ward, almost  wild  with  grief  and  disappointment. 

The  autumn  passed,  and  winter  came.  Paul  Gray- 
don  scarcely  noted  the  change.  He  grew  thin  and 
nervous,  and  a  fixed  melancholy  took  possession  of 


86  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

him.  Hester  was  kind  and  attentive,  but  not  obtru- 
sively so ;  and  she  and  Paul  again  became  close  com- 
panions. At  this,  Aunt  Caroline  nodded  knowingly 
and  smiled  complacently  to  herself.  Once  only  was 
Marie's  name  mentioned. 

"  She's  as  one  dead  —  let's  speak  kindly  of  the 
dead,"  Paul  answered  bitterly. 

Early  spring  arrived ;  but  Paul  had  made  no  pro- 
posal to  Hester.  One  day  Aunt  Caroline  said  to 
him: 

"  When  are  you  and  Hester  to  be  married  ?  " 

"  Aunt  Caroline,  I  can't  marry  Hester.  I  have  a 
firm  conviction  that  Marie  wasn't  false  —  that  she 
was  compelled  to  leave  without  communicating  with 
me.  I  can't  marry  my  cousin  —  and  I'm  going  away 
at  once." 

"Where?" 

"  To  the  new  settlement  the  New  Englanders  have 
founded  in  the  Northwest  Territory." 

"  You  said  once  you  had  no  desire  to  get  farther 
away  from  the  center  of  civilization." 

"  I've  changed  my  mind.  No  place  can  be  too 
wild  to  suit  my  present  mood." 

He  gave  Gumbo  his  freedom,  packed  his  few 
earthly  possessions,  bade  his  relatives  a  tearful  fare- 
well, mounted  his  horse,  and  set  his  face  toward  the 
wilderness.  As  he  rode  from  the  door,  Hester,  pale 
as  marble,  was  in  the  big  sitting  room,  kneeling  by 
her  mother's  side  and  chafing  the  invalid's  thin 
hands ;  for  Mrs.  Lovelace  had  fainted. 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  87 

When  two  miles  from  the  mansion,  Paul  hesitated, 
reined  in  his  horse  and  looked  back.  He  saw  a 
man  dogging  his  horse's  footprints;  and  he  waited 
for  the  fellow  to  come  up.  It  was  Gumbo. 

"  Where  are  you  going?  "  Paul  inquired. 

"  Wid  you,  Marse  Paul,"  replied  the  negro,  look- 
ing beseechingly  at  his  master. 

"  You  cannot,  you  must  not !  "  Paul  cried,  sternly. 

"  Go  back  to  Aunt  Caroline  —  go,  I  command 
you !  " 

Gumbo  made  no  move  to  obey  the  mandate. 

"  Fs  gwine  wid  you,  Marse  Paul  —  I  ain't 
a-gwine  back." 

"  Do  you  refuse  to  obey  me?  "  Paul  shouted. 

"  Yes,  I  does  in  dat." 

"  Then  I'll  compel  you  to  go." 

"  You  fo'gets,  Marse  Paul,  dat  Fs  a  free  man  an' 
can  go  whar  I  pleases." 

"True!"  —  And  the  young  man  burst  into  a 
laugh. —  "  Well,  what  do  you  mean  to  do  ?  " 

"  Go  wid  you." 

"Afoot?" 

"  Yes,  Marse  Paul." 

"  Very  well  —  have  your  will.  As  long  as  I've  a 
crust  you  shall  share  it." 

Paul  was  not  displeased.  As  he  resumed  his  jour- 
ney, Gumbo  —  faithful  fellow  that  he  was  — 
trudged  sturdily  at  the  horse's  heels. 


CHAPTER  IX 

AT  the  close  of  a  rainy  April  day,  in  the  year 
seventeen  hundred  and  ninety,  two  men  stood 
upon  the  bank  of  a  swollen  stream  that  emptied  its 
turbulent  flood  into  the  Ohio  river,  a  few  miles 
above  the  newly-founded  settlement  of  Marietta. 
The  younger  of  the  two  held  by  the  rein  a  jaded  and 
mud-bespattered  black  horse,  and  gazed  in  perplex- 
ity upon  the  angry,  tumbling  waters  that  interposed 
a  liquid  barrier  between  himself  and  companion  and 
the  settlement  he  desired  to  reach  ere  nightfall.  The 
garments  of  the  two  were  rain-drenched  and  muddy, 
and  the  unfortunate  travelers  presented  a  pitiable 
spectacle,  as  they  stood  shivering  in  the  fast-gather- 
ing twilight.  The  rain  had  ceased  to  fall,  the  skies 
had  partly  cleared,  and  the  wind  that  swept  up  the 
valley  was  biting  and  chill. 

"  What  do  you  say,  Gumbo,  dare  we  attempt  to 
ford  it?" 

"  I  doesn't  know,  Marse  Paul  —  I  doesn't  know," 
replied  the  negro,  reflectively.  "  It  looks  mighty 
juberous  to  me,  it  does." 

"  Night's  coming  on,  and  we  must  cross  this 
stream  at  some  point,"  said  Paul.  "  To  seek  a  ford 
farther  up  its  course  involves  toil  that  I  don't  feel 
(88) 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  89 

able  to  undertake.  Besides,  we  run  the  risk  of  losing 
ourselves  in  the  unbroken  forest.  The  settlement 
cannot  be  many  miles  away ;  and  we  must  reach  it  to- 
night. We've  had  no  food  since  morning,  and  we're 
weak  and  hungry.  To  camp  out  another  night 
means  to  go  without  anything  to  eat  for  another 
twelve  hours  at  least.  That  will  not  do.  Let  us 
mount  the  horse  and  make  the  attempt  to  ford." 

"  Does  you  apprehen'  dat  Prince  can  carry  us  bofe 
across  dar,  Marse  Paul  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  —  we  must  make  the  trial." 
Paul  seated  himself  firmly  in  the  saddle,  and  Gum- 
bo sprang  up  behind.  The  former  gathered  up  the 
reins  and  urged  the  black  steed  into  the  raging  cur- 
rent. For  the  first  few  yards,  the  ford  was  shallow. 
As  they  proceeded,  the  water  rose  higher  and  higher 
on  the  horse's  sides  and  the  current  grew  swifter, 
until  the  noble  animal  could  hardly  keep  his  footing. 
Paul  turned  the  beast's  head  a  little  up  stream,  and 
encouraged  him  by  word  and  caress.  The  young 
man's  handsome  face  was  white,  and  his  square  jaws 
were  hard  set ;  while  the  negro's  features  were  ash- 
en. Both  realized  the  danger  that  threatened  them. 
The  din  of  the  surging  waters  rang  in  their  ears,  and 
the  shifting  panorama  of  yellow  made  their  brains 
reel.  Another  step  —  and  Prince  was  beyond  his 
depth !  With  a  cry  that  was  almost  human,  he  sank 
into  the  boiling  depths  and  was  swept  swiftly  down 
the  stream  with  his  heavy  burden.  Paul  leaned  well 
forward,  directing  Gumbo  to  do  the  same,  and  at- 


90  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

tempted  to  head  the  animal  for  the  opposite  shore. 
It  was  all  in  vain !  Prince's  load  was  too  heavy,  and 
his  strokes  grew  feebler  and  he  sank  lower  and  low- 
er. Then  it  was  that  Gumbo  showed  he  had  in  him 
that  which  is  worthy  of  everlasting  life. 

"  Goodby,  Marse  Paul !  "  he  shouted  in  the  latter's 
ear.  Loosing  his  hold,  he  slid  from  the  horse's  back 
and  disappeared  down  the  stream. 

Freed  from  a  part  of  his  burden,  Prince  with  great 
difficulty  made  his  way  to  the  shore  from  which  he 
had  started,  landing  a  hundred  yards  below  the  place 
where  he  had  entered  the  creek.  He  scrambled  up 
the  .steep  and  slippery  bank,  and  stood  snorting  and 
trembling  from  fear  and  exertion.  His  master  slid 
to  the  ground  and,  throwing  himself  upon  his  face, 
moaned  and  shivered. 

Paul  Graydon  was  faint  and  exhausted.  For  sev- 
eral minutes,  he  hardly  knew  what  had  occurred  or 
where  he  was.  Then  a  full  realization  of  it  all  swept 
through  his  mind,  like  a  whirlwind  of  flame.  He 
staggered  to  his  feet  crying  —  "  Gumbo !  Gumbo !  " 
But  the  mocking  roar  of  rushing  waters  was  the 
only  reply.  With  cold  and  trembling  fingers,  he 
clutched  Prince's  mane  and  drew  himself  into  the 
saddle.  He  did  not  stop  to  reason  upon  what  he  pur- 
posed to  do.  Gumbo  was  gone,  and  he  must  find 
him.  He  turned  the  horse's  head  toward  the  stream 
and  again  essayed  to  enter  the  treacherous  current. 
For  the  first  time  in  Paul's  experience,  Prince  re- 
fused to  do  his  bidding.  The  master  dashed  his 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R  91 

spurred  heel  into  the  dumb  creature's  flank  and  fran- 
tically shook  the  rein,  but  Prince  did  not  budge  from 
his  tracks. 

"  Does  the  white  man  wish  to  join  his  fathers  in 
the  spirit-land?  " 

Paul  dropped  the  rein  and  glanced  hurriedly 
around.  The  voice  was  still  ringing  in  his  ears  — 
but  whence  did  it  come?  Was  it  the  warning  of 
Omnipotence,  or  a  creation  of  his  own  excited  im- 
agination. The  shades  of  evening  were  gathering. 
The  young  man  peered  into  their  depths  of  gloom, 
but  saw  no  one.  A  superstitious  dread  stole  over 
him,  and  he  shuddered. 

"  Bah !  "  he  muttered,  as  he  shook  himself  and 
again  took  up  the  reins,  "  I'm  as  nervous  as  a  flighty 
old  woman." 

Once  more  he  urged  the  horse  forward. 

"  Does  the  paleface  seek  death?  " 

Paul  almost  leaped  from  the  saddle,  for  the  voice 
was  at  his  elbow.  He  stared  into  the  face  that  was 
upturned  to  his  own,  and  asked  sharply : 

"  Who  and  what  are  you  ?  " 

"  Silverheels,  the  Shawnee,"  came  the  reply  in 
deep,  gutteral  tones  that  were  not  unmusical. 

"An  Indian?" 

"Ugh!" 

"  Where  did  you  come  from  ?  "  Paul  inquired. 

The  Indian  stepped  back  a  pace  and,  raising  a 
sinewy  arm,  pointed  into  the  depths  of  the  wood, 


92  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R 

saying- :  "  The  forest  is  my  home  —  the  earth  is 
my  bed." 

"  Can  you  guide  me  to  point  where  I  can  cross  this 
stream  in  safety  ?  "  Graydon  asked. 

Silverheels  folded  his  arms  about  the  barrel  of  the 
long  rifle  that  he  carried,  and  grunted  an  affirmative. 

"  Do  so  at  once,  and  I'll  pay  you  for  it,"  Paul  said 
eagerly. 

The  Indian  turned  and  strode  away  up  the  stream. 
Paul  dismounted  and  followed,  leading  the  horse 
by  the  bridle.  After  a  few  minutes'  rapid  walking, 
Silverheels  paused  and  waited  for  the  Englishman  to 
come  up.  The  latter  was  panting  from  weakness  and 
the  exertion  of  dragging  the  horse  through  thickets 
and  over  fallen  logs.  As  he  reached  Silverheels' 
side  the  latter  uttered  the  word  "  here,"  and  pointed 
to  the  stream  that  boomed  at  their  feet. 

"  Is  this  the  place  ?  "  Paul  asked  quickly. 

"Ugh!    Wide  — not  deep." 

By  this  time,  it  was  so  dark  Graydon  could  not  see 
the  opposite  shore.  He  did  not  hesitate,  however, 
but  sprang  upon  his  horse's  back  and  spurred  into 
the  water.  After  a  few  seconds  of  floundering  and 
splashing,  he  reached  the  farther  bank  and  rode 
away  in  the  direction  cf  the  highway.  Suddenly  it 
dawned  upon  him  that  he  had  neglected  to  reward 
the  Indian  for  his  kindness.  He  reined  in  his  steed 
and  looked  back.  What  was  his  unbounded  surprise 
to  find  the  subject  of  his  thoughts  close  at  his 
heels ! 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  93 

"  Are  you  man  or  devil  ?  "  he  asked  sharply,  half 
angrily. 

The  moon  was  just  rising  and,  in  its  faint  light, 
Paul  could  distinguish  the  Indian's  straight  and 
muscular  form,  from  the  background  of  shadowy 
trees-trunks  beyond.  He  saw  him  fold  his  arms  up- 
on his  breast  and  heard  him  say  slowly  and  impres- 
sively : 

"I  am  a  Shawnee." 

"  How  did  you  get  across  the  stream  ?  "  was  Paul's 
next  question. 

"  A  hunter  does  not  stop  for  hill  or  stream." 

"  Here's  money  for  the  service  you  have  rendered 
me." 

Silverheels  shook  his  head. 

"You  will  not  accept  it?" 

"No!" 

"  Why  do  you  follow  me,  then?  " 

"  Does  not  the  white  man  wish  to  find  his  black 
friend?" 

"  Yes  —  yes !  "  Graydon  cried  eagerly.  "  Do  you 
know  anything  of  him  ?  " 

"  He  lies  among  the  willows  at  the  mouth  of  the 
creek." 

"Dead!" 

"  Xo ;  he  swam  as  the  muskrat  swims." 

"  He  is  alive,  then !  Thank  God !  Come  quickly 
and  show  me  where  he  is." 

Again  they  proceeded,  Silverheels  leading  the 
wav.  Thev  crossed  the  trail  that  led  toward  the  set- 


94  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R 

tlement,  and  continued  along  the  bank  of  the  creek. 
Suddenly  the  Indian  halted,  and,  pointing  to  a  clump 
of  willows,  muttered  sententiously : 

"  He  is  there." 

Paul  heard  a  strange  moaning  sound  in  the  direc- 
tion indicated.  He  leaped  to  the  ground  and  ran  for- 
ward, shouting  his  black  companion's  name.  As  he 
reached  the  clump  of  willows,  the  moaning  ceased 
and  a  well-known  voice  cried  lustily : 

"  Fo'  de  Lo'd !  Marse  Paul,  is  dat  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it's  I,  Gumbo.     Are  you  hurt  ?  " 

"  No,  Marse  Paul ;  but  I's  skeered  mos'  to  deaf." 

"  Why  are  you  lying  there  ?  Get  up."  —  And  Paul 
stooped  over  the  negro  and  assisted  him  to  his  feet. 
The  latter  stretched  and  rubbed  his  stiffened  limbs, 
grinning  all  the  while  like  an  ebony  satyr.  Paul 
was  overjoyed  to  find  the  faithful  fellow  alive  and 
well. 

"  How  did  you  get  out,  Gumbo  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Well,  I  swummed  to  de  sho' —  dat  is,  after  I'd 
drunk  'bout  a  bar'l  ob  water,  an'  been  down  to  de 
bottom  ob  de  branch  a  few  times.  You  see,  Marse 
Paul,  de  water  ain't  so  swift  an'  rampagerous  at 
dis  p'int,  an'  I  swummed  out  widout  a  great  deal  ob 
animosity.  W'en  I  got  to  de  sho',  I  grabbed  a  limb 
an'  hung  on  fo  'deah  life.  Den  I  had  de  breaf  skeer- 
ed right  outen  me  —  I  did !  " 

"How?" 

"  By  de  debil !  " 

'By  the  devil?" 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  95 

"  Yes,  Marse  Paul,  de  debil  —  de  debil,  fo' 
shuah!" 

"  I  don't  understand  you.    Explain." 

"I  was  hangin'  onto  de  limb  —  de  water  jes, 
swishing'  me  dis  way  an'  dat  —  w'en  I  heerd  some- 
fin'  come  discriminatin'  froo  de  bushes,  like  de  debil. 
An'  it  was  de  debil !  He  took  me  by  de  collah  an' 
yanked  me  outen  de  water,  jes'  zif  I  didn't  weigh  no 
mo'  dan  a  broom-straw.  Den  he  grunted,  '  Ugh !' — 
jes  like  dat ;  an'  says,  '  black  dog ! '  Den  he  lef '  me ; 
an'  I  jes  hid  my  face  an'  laid  dar,  'spectin'  to  be 
killed  eb'ry  minute." 

Paul  readily  guessed  the  cause  of  the  negro's  ter- 
ror; and  asked: 

"  How  do  you  know  it  was  the  devil,  Gumbo?  " 

The  latter  had  recovered  his  courage,  somewhat, 
and  replied  earnestly: 

"  Didn't  I  see  an'  hear  him,  Marse  Paul  ?  I  saw 
de  h'ar  all  ober  him,  an'  heerd  de  jingle  ob  bells  on 
his  hoofs.  Den  I  saw  his  horns,  too.  I  knows  it 
was  ol'  Beezlybub !  " 

Gray  don  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh.  He  recog- 
nized in  Gumbo's  description  a  distorted  picture  of 
Silverheels.  The  Indian's  hunting  shirt  and  leg- 
gings of  undressed  deerskin  accounted  for  the 
"ha'r"  on  his  satanic  majesty;  the  eagle  feathers 
braided  in  his  long  black  hair  constituted  his 
"  horns  " ;  and  the  perforated  silver  coins  with  which 
his  moccasins  were  ornamented,  and  from  which  he 


96  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R 

took  his  sobriquet,  "  Silverheels,"  were  the  "  bells  " 
that  jingled  on  his  "  hoofs." 

"  Would  you  know  him,  if  you  again  saw  him?  " 
Paul  roguishly  asked. 

The  negro  glanced  around  apprehensively,  and 
answered  with  great  unction : 

"  Yes,  but  I  doesn't  keer  to  see  him  no  mo'  —  I 
doesn't ! " 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  to  find  you  alive.  Come,  let's 
make  a  final  effort  to  reach  the  settlement  tonight ; 
we're  in  need  of  food  and  shelter." 

They  left  the  clump  of  willows  and  proceeded 
toward  the  spot  where  Paul  had  left  the  horse.  Just 
as  they  reached  it  and  found  Prince  quietly  nibbling 
at  the  short  grass  upon  the  creek  bank,  the  moon 
peeped  from  a  rift  in  the  clouds  and  lighted  up 
the  scene.  Gumbo  caught  sight  of  Silverheels. 
Dropping  upon  his  knees  and  clasping  Paul's  leg 
with  both  arms,  the  terrified  darky  cried : 

"  Sabe  me !  Sabe  me,  Marse  Paul !  Dar's  dat 
Beezlybub  debil  ag'in !  " 

Paul  was  vexed  at  Gumbo's  manifestation  of  ab- 
ject terror,  and  said,  angrily :  "  Loose  my  legs  and 
get  up !  Do  you  hear  ?  Get  up  —  it  is  only  an  In- 
dian." 

"An  Injin  debil!  Oh,  Marse  Paul,  dat's  worse 
an'  mo'  ob  it !  " 

Paul  dragged  the  trembling  wretch  to  his  feet  and 
ordered  him  to  mount  the  horse.  With  many  side 
glances  and  starts  of  fear,  the  black  obeyed. 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  97 

"  Big  fool !  Black  dog !  "  Silverheels  grunted 
contemptuously. 

As  they  were  ready  to  move  off  Paul  asked  Silver- 
heels  how  far  it  was  to  the  Marietta  settlement. 

"  Does  the  white  man  mean  the  place  where  the 
paleface  lodges  stand  upon  the  bank  of  the  Moose- 
eye,  as  thick  as  wild  flowers  upon  a  sunny  hillside  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  When  the  moon  is  there,"  —  And  the  Indian  in- 
dicated a  point  in  the  sky  with  the  muzzle  of  his  gun 
—  "  you  will  be  at  the  village  of  the  white  men." 

"  Will  you  go  with  us  ?  " 

The  Indian  nodded,  and  wheeling  about  led  the 
way.  His  strides  were  long  and  rapid,  and  Paul 
had  great  difficulty  in  keeping  pace  with  him.  See- 
ing this,  the  savage  hunter  remarked: 

"  Let  the  white  man  ride,  and  the  black  dog  walk." 

"  Why  do  you  call  my  friend  '  the  black  dog  '  ?  " 
Graydon  asked,  amused  at  the  Indian's  evident  dis- 
like for  Gumbo. 

"  You  own  him  —  he  is  your  slave,  Ugh !  He  is 
a  black  dog." 

"  You're  mistaken,  he  is  not  my  slave.  He's  a  free 
man  —  as  free  to  come  and  go  as  you  or  I." 

"  It  is  strange  —  a  black  man,  but  not  a  black 
dog,"  muttered  Silverheels.  "  Are  not  all  black  men 
black  dogs?" 

"  Most  of  them  are,"  Paul  admitted. 

Silverheels  had  shown  a  knowledge  of  slavery  that 


98  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R 

Graydon  was  surprised  to  find  him  possessing;  so 
he  inquired : 

"  Have  you  seen  many  black  slaves  —  black  dogs, 
as  you  call  them?" 

"  Yes." 

"Where?" 

"  Many  eagle  flights  beyond  the  great  river." — 
And  he  pointed  to  the  south. 

"  When  were  you  there  ?  " 

"  As  a  child.,  I  lived  in  the  warm  land  where  the 
flowers  bloom  all  the  year." 

"  Your  people  came  from  the  South?  " 

"  Ugh ! " 

"  You  speak  good  English.  You're  not  a  full- 
blooded  Indian  ?  " 

"  I  am  a  Shawnee." 

"Your  mother?" 

"  Was  a  Shawnee." 

"Your  father?" 

"  Was  an  English  officer!  " 

Paul  had  heard  of  such  cases,  but  had  never  met 
with  one  before.  Silverheels  was  a  half-breed,  then, 
one  of  the  mongrel  brood  noted  for  cruelty  and 
treachery. 

"  Have  you  always  lived  the  life  of  a  wild  hunt- 
er?" Graydon  asked,  a  shade  of  suspicion  in  his 
tone. 

'  The  white  man's  tongue  moulds  many  questions ; 
and  they  fly  as  swiftly  and  surely  as  the  leaden  balls 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  99 

from  a  rifle.  Would  he  wound  the  heart  of  one  who 
has  befriended  him?" 

Paul  felt  the  rebuke  —  and  felt  also  that  it  was 
merited.  A  few  hours  before,  he  would  have 
laughed  at  the  bare  idea  of  craving  the  pardon  of 
an  Indian;  but  now  it  was  different.  The  manly, 
dignified  answer  of  the  red  hunter  impressed  the 
fair-minded  young  man,  as  nothing  else  could  have 
done.  He  realized  that  Silverheels  was  far  more 
than  an  ignorant  savage.  To  Paul's  humble  apolo- 
gies, the  Indian  gave  monosyllabic  answers,  and  had 
litttle  more  to  say  during  the  rest  of  their  journey. 
Gumbo  was  bringing  up  the  rear.  Suddenly  he  cried 
out: 

"  Marse  Paul,  I  sees  a  light  twinklin'  on  ahead  dar 
a  little  ways." 

"  It's  the  village  of  the  white  men,"  Silverheels 
said,  quietly ;  "  I  leave  you  now." 

Paul  turned  to  speak  to  him,  but  the  Indian  had 
vanished. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  two  travelers  moved  forward  in  the  direction 
of  the  twinkling  light,  Paul  leading  the  way. 
A  few  minutes  brought  them  to  a  point  where  they 
could  dimly  see  the  Muskingum  emptying  its  waters 
into  the  broad  bosom  of  the  Ohio.  On  the  western 
point  of  land,  formed  by  the  junction  of  the  two  riv- 
ers, lay  Fort  Harmer,  its  lights  darting  scattering 
arrows  into  the  gloom  that  overhung  the  two 
streams.  On  the  eastern  point  lay  the  settlement, 
the  cabins  that  composed  it  scattered  in  an  irregular 
manner  among  those  trees  that  had  not  yet  felt  the 
keen  edge  of  the  woodman's  axe.  The  two  travelers 
paused  as  the  voice  of  the  sentry  at  the  fort,  calling 
out  the  hour  and  announcing  that  all  was  well,  was 
borne  to  their  ears.  Again  they  moved  forward.  A 
short  distance  further  on,  was  the  rude  habitation 
whose  light  Gumbo  had  first  seen.  Just  as  they  came 
opposite  this  cabin,  its  puncheon  door  swung  open, 
and  a  tall,  rawboned  man  emerged  from  the  lighted 
interior,  the  flicker  of  the  firelight  following  him. 
Paul  started,  and  with  difficulty  repressed  an  ex- 
clamation. The  man  shaded  his  eyes  a  moment,  with 
his  hand,  and  peered  into  the  wall  of  darkness.  Then 
he  shambled  to  the  woodpile  a  few  steps  from  the 
doo) 


IN  THE  DA  YS  OF  ST.  CLA1R  101 

door,  and,  picking  up  a  large  stick,  turned  toward 
the  house.  He  had  reached  the  door  and  placed  one 
foot  upon  the  log  step,  when  Paul  cried : 

"  Hello !  " 

"  Hullo  y'rself !  "  was  the  ungracious  rejoinder. 

"  Can  we  obtain  a  night's  lodging?  "  Paul  queried. 

"  I  don't  know  —  who  are  you  ?  " 

"  None  should  know  me  better  than  Isaac 
Meeks !  " 

The  stick  of  wood  dropped,  and  Isaac  Meeks 
leaped  forward  into  the  darkness,  shouting: 

"  Fer  God's  sake !  Is  it  you,  Mr.  Paul,  'r  y'r 
ghost?  " 

"  It's  I,  Paul  Graydon,  alive  and  in  the  flesh.  Will 
you  take  us  in  for  the  night,  Isaac?" 

"Of  course  I  will!    Who's  with  you?" 

"  Gumbo  —  and  Prince." 

By  this  time,  Meeks  had  found  his  way  to  Paul's 
side.  He  caught  the  young  man's  hand  and  wrung 
it  heartily.  Both  were  trembling  with  excitement. 
Gumbo  had  dismounted  and  now  stood  holding  the 
horse,  and  chuckling  and  grinning.  Isaac  shook 
hands  with  the  darky,  also,  then  he  asked : 

"  Where  in  the  world  did  you  come  from,  Mr. 
Paul  ?  " 

"  From  Virginia,"  Graydon  replied,  a  little  coldly. 

"  Did  you  an'  Gumbo  come  through  all  the  way, 
by  y'rselves  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  where's  your  family,  Isaac?  " 


102  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  In  the  house.  Annie's  sick  with  a  bad  cold ; 
that's  what  kcp'  us  up  so  late." 

"And  —  and   Miss  —  Miss   Fontanelle?" 

"  D'  you  mean  Marie?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Oh !  she's  in  the  cabin  along  with  the  others. 
What're  you  Miss  Fontanellein'  'bout,  anyhow !  " 

Paul  was  not  certain  of  his  ground,  and  kept  si- 
lent. If  Marie  had  left  him  voluntarily,  leaving  no 
word  behind  her,  she  was  Miss  Fontanelle  to  him 
now.  He  would  wait  and  see. 

"  How'd  you  know  we  was  out  here,  Mr.  Paul?  " 
Meeks  inquired. 

"  I  didn't  know  it  —  I  knew  nothing  of  your 
whereabouts." 

"  You  jest  dropped  in  here  by  accident?  " 

"  I  set  out  to  come  to  the  new  settlement,  but  I 
had  no  idea  you  and  your  —  your  family  were  here." 

"  Well,  come  into  the  house ;  we  can  talk  after 
a  bit  —  after  you've  had  some  supper.  I  s'pose  you 
hain't  had  y'r  supper?  " 

"  Neither  supper  nor  dinner." 

"  Goodness  gracious,  you  must  be  'most  starved !  " 
— And  Isaac  feelingly  laid  his  hands  over  his  own  or- 
gans of  digestion. —  "  Come  on  in.  Gumbo,  tie  the 
horse  to  this  limb.  We'll  find  a  place  f'r  him  after 
while.  Our  cow  died  comin'  over  the  mountains,  an' 
we've  sold  our  horses  —  so  we  hain't  got  no  stable. 
You  won't  find  very  good  'commodations ;  but  we'll 
do  the  best  we  can  fer  you.  The  folks'll  be  mighty 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  103 

glad  to  see  you  an'  Gumbo,  Mr.  Paul.  We've  had 
a  rough  time  of  it  sence  we  left  ol'  Virginny',  an' 
some  of  us  're  purty  homesick.  Come  right  on  in." 

The  three  had  reached  the  door  of  the  cabin. 
Isaac  gave  a  vigorous  jerk  at  the  latchstring;  and 
the  door  swung  open,  creaking  on  its  wooden 
hinges.  He  pushed  the  other  two  ahead  of  him,  and 
entered  the  house,  closing  the  door  with  a  bang.  The 
ruddy  firelight  flashed  upon  the  faces  of  the  new- 
comers and  revealed  to  them  the  interior  of  the 
cabin.  It  consisted  of  one  large  room.  A  puncheon 
floor,  covered  here  and  there  with  the  skins  of  wild 
animals,  extended  from  the  doorway  to  within  a 
few  feet  of  the  wide,  deep  fireplace.  The  floor  of  the 
space  thus  left  was  of  hard  packed  earth.  Around 
the  walls,  were  rows  of  wooden  pegs  upon  which 
hung  clothing  and  household  utensils ;  and  attached 
to  the  low  smoke-stained  rafters,  by  means  of 
thongs,  were  large  chunks  of  dried  meat,  bundles 
of  peltries,  and  bunches  of  wild  herbs  and  roots.  A 
rude  bedstead  occupied  one  corner  of  the  room,  and 
under  it  nestled  a  clumsy  trundle-bed.  A  few  stools 
were  scattered  in  front  of  the  fire,  and  a  rough  table 
stood  against  the  wall.  Over  the  door  was  the  hunt- 
er's rifle,  bullet-pouch  and  powder-horn,  and  piled 
in  one  corner  was  a  quantity  of  yellow  corn. 

Meeks'  cabin  was  a  type  of  the  settlement.  Its 
walls  were  of  unhewn  logs ;  the  fireplace  was  of  un- 
dressed stone ;  and  the  chimney,  of  sticks  and  dried 
clay.  The  roof  was  of  clapboards  held  in  place  by 


104  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

heavy  poles,  the  ends  of  which  were  secured  by 
wooden  pins  driven  into  the  log  walls.  A  window, 
made  by  cutting  out  a  section  of  one  of  the  logs  in 
the  side  of  the  cabin,  was  furnished  with  a  heavy 
shutter.  The  puncheon  door  was  fastened  by  a  latch 
and  string;  and  additional  security  was  obtained  by 
the  use  of  two  strong  hickory  bars  that  extended 
across  the  inner  surface  of  the  door  and  rested  in 
wooden  staples  upon  each  side. 
.  When  Isaac  and  the  two  travelers  entered  the 
room,  Nancy  was  kneeling  in  front  of  the  fireplace, 
making  a  poultice  of  cornmeal  and  dried  herbs,  for 
the  little  sufferer  upon  the  bed.  Her  back  was 
toward  the  door,  and  she  did  not  notice  the  strang- 
ers. Marie,  standing  by  the  bedside,  was  holding 
the  sick  child's  hand  and  coaxing  her  to  take  a 
draught  of  the  bitter  tea  Nancy  had  brewed.  She 
turned  at  the  bang  of  the  door,  and  stood  face  to 
face  with  Paul  Graydon !  The  cup  dropped  from 
her  hand  ;  and  with  a  cry  of  —  "  My  Paul !  My 
Paul!  " — she  flung  herself  into  his  arms,  and  burst 
into  tears. 

Annie,  the  sick  girl,  screamed  in  affright ;  and, 
with  raised  bristles  and  flashing  fangs,  two  great 
dogs  emerged  from  their  warm  corner  by  the  chim- 
ney, growling  fiercely.  Nancy  took  in  the  situation 
at  a  glance,  and,  standing  with  arms  akimbo  and  a 
half-pleased,  half  defiant  look  upon  her  face,  she 
ejaculated : 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R  105 

"  Well,  of  all  things !  It's  Mr.  Paul  an'  Gumbo, 
as  sure's  shootin' !  " 

Mrs.  Meeks  was  a  general  of  no  mean  ability. 
She  handed  stools  to  the  visitors;  allayed  the  sick 
girl's  terror ;  and,  after  brushing  up  the  hearth  with 
the  wing  of  a  wild  turkey,  resumed  the  preparation 
of  the  poultice  —  all  the  time  keeping  up  a  rattling 
fire  of  questions  and  exclamations.  Marie  nestled 
at  Paul's  side,  her  hand  in  his  and  her  eyes  hun- 
grily studying  every  lineament  of  his  features. 

"  Where'd  you  come  from,  Mr.  Paul  ?  "  Nancy 
asked. 

"  From  Virginia,"  Graydon  answered,  as  he  slip- 
bis  arm  around  Marie's  waist. 

"  Lawzee !  "  Mrs.  Meeks  exclaimed,  "  Who'd  you 
come  through  with?  " 

"  With  Gumbo  —  and  Prince." 

"  Jest  the  nigger  an'  y'r  horse  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Wy,  how  in  the  nation  did  you  git  here  ?  Did 
you  come  all  the  way  by  land  ?  " 

"  Yes.     We  had  a  toilsome  and  dangerous  trip." 

"  Say,  ol'  woman !  "  Isaac  broke  in.  "  You'd  bet- 
ter stop  gabbin',  an'  git  these  men  some  supper. 
They  hain't  had  a  mite  to  eat  sence  mornin'." 

"  Oh  !  "  —  And  Marie  caught  her  breath. —  "  My 
Paul,  you  must  be  famished." 

"  Hardly  so  bad  as  that,"  laughed  the  young  man  ; 
"  but  I'm  weak  with  hunger." 

Marie  and  her  aunt  soon  had  a  steaming  meal  of 


io6  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

hot  corn-pone,  fish,  milk  and  game,  on  the  table. 
It  was  very  appetizing  to  the  travelers.  When 
they  had  eaten  their  fill  and  the  table  was  cleared, 
Paul  faced  Mrs.  Meeks  and  said: 

"  Now,  Nancy,  I'm  ready  to  talk.  The  reception 
you  have  given  us  leads  me  to  believe  you  bear  me 
no  ill  will.  Am  I  right?" 

"  Y-e-s,"  she  answered,  hesitatingly,  "  I  guess 
you're  'bout  right.  I  don't  bear  you  no  ill  will  now ; 
but  that  ain't  sayin'  that  I  never  did."  She  uttered 
this  last  sentence  rather  defiantly. 

Here  Isaac  interrupted  by  saying :  "  While  you 
folks's  fixin'  up  y'r  differ'nces,  I'll  take  the  horse  up 
to  Colonel  Sproat's  stable  an'  feed  him.  He  has  an 
empty  stall,  an'  I  know  he'll  let  me  put  the  critter  in 
there  fer  the  night." 

He  left  the  cabin,  accompanied  by  Gumbo  and 
Johnnie.  When  the  door  had  closed  behind  them, 
Nancy  answered  Paul's  questioning  look. 

"  Mr.  Paul,  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  deny  nothin'.  I 
s'picioned  that  you  wasn't  runnin'  after  Marie,  fer 
no  good.  I  didn't  b'lieve  you  meant  to  marry  'er; 
so  I  packed  up  an'  run  away  while  you  was  gone. 
I  was  wrong  —  I  see  it  now  —  but  I  didn't  think  so 
then ;  an'  I  acted  'cordin'  to  my  lights.  Isaac  hadn't 
nothin'  to  do  with  it.  If  we  could  'ave  had  his  way, 
we'd  still  be  over  there  in  the  mountains  o'  Virginny. 
As  fer  me,  I'm  mighty  glad  we  come.  Course  we've 
seen  hard  times  an'  had  lots  o'  bad  luck ;  but  we're 
here  now,  an'  got  a  chance  to  git  some  land  that'll 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  107 

'mount  to  somethin*  in  time.  We  couldn't  'ave 
come,  though,  if  Mrs.  Lovelace  hadn't  bought  our 
place  —  " 

"  Mrs.  Lovelace !  "  cried  Paul  and  Marie  together. 
The  latter  was  as  much  surprised  as  her  lover.  It 
was  the  first  time  she  had  heard  the  name  mentioned 
in  connection  with  the  sale. 

"  Yes,"  Mrs.  Meeks  answered,  filling  and  lighting 
her  pipe,  "  she  bought  our  place  at  a  good  price  — 
an'  —  " 

Here  the  hunter's  wife  paused  abruptly  and 
dropped  her  eyes  confusedly. 

Paul  was  keenly  alert  to  everything  she  was  say- 
ing, and  now  cried  sharply : 

"  And  what,  Nancy  ?  You  said  you  were  going 
to  tell  everything." 

Nancy's  face  was  very  red.  Its  flushed  appear- 
ance may  have  been  due  to  the  heat  of  the  fire, 
but  more  probably  it  was  caused  by  shame  and 
confusion.  Be  that  as  it  may,  she  straightened  her 
tall  form  and  replied  resolutely : 

"  I'm  a-goin'  to  tell  the  truth,  the  whole  truth, 
an'  nothin'  but  the  truth!  Mrs.  Lovelace  bought 
our  place,  an'  she  paid  us  fer  leavin'  the  neighbor- 
hood an'  takin'  Marie  with  us.  As  I  said,  I  was 
'spicious  of  you,  Mr.  Paul ;  an'  when  her  an'  her 
daughter  sent  fer  me  an'  Isaac  to  come  an'  see  'em, 
we  went  —  " 

"When  was  that?"  Paul  asked,  quickly. 


io8  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  The  day  after  you  left  fer  Richmond  —  I  b'lieve 
that's  where  she  said  you'd  gone." 

"  Go  on." 

"  Well,  w'en  y'r  aunt  said  you  didn't  intend  to 
marry  my  gal  —  that  you'd  marry  some  rich  wom- 
an—  that  you  was  jest  foolin'  Marie  —  I  was  all 
ready  to  b'lieve  'er.  An'  w'en  she  wanted  to  buy 
us  out  an'  pay  us  fer  leavin',  I  was  glad  to  go. 
She  said  she  didn't  want  a  member  o'  her  family 
to  bring  disgrace  an'  trouble  'pon  us.  I  won't  deny 
that  her  offerin'  me  money  helped  me  to  make  up  my 
mind  to  leave.  But  Isaac  wan't  to  blame  at  all  — 
I  done  it  all.  I  see  ev'rything  clear  now,  an'  I'm 
awful  sorry  I  done  as  I  did;  but  I  thought  I  was 
actin'  fer  the  best.  I'm  glad  you  know'd  where  to 
find  us  —  " 

"  But  I  didn't  know." 

"You  didn't?" 

"  No ;  my  coming  here  was  purely  accidental.  I 
thought  Marie  had  grown  tired  of  me  —  " 

"  Paul !  "  the  young  woman  cried,  reproachfully. 

"I  di'd,  Marie!  What  else  could  I  think?  I 
didn't  know  where  you  had  gone,  nor  why  you  had 
gone.  You  left  no  word  for  me,  and  —  " 

"  I  left  a  letter  for  you,  Paul." 

"For  me?" 

"  Yes." 

"With  whom?" 

"  With  your  cousin,  Hester  Lovelace." 

Mrs.  Meeks  smiled  pityingly  at  her  niece's  sim- 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  109 

plicity,  and  sneered :  "  You  little  dunce !  That  was 
a  smart  trick  —  givin'  y'r  letter  to  the  very  woman 
that  wanted  to  marry  Mr.  Paul,  herself!  Course  he 
never  got  it !  " 

The  older  woman  arose  and  busied  herself  in  pre- 
paring another  poultice  for  the  sick  child  moaning 
upon  the  bed. 

"  So  my  poor  boy  never  got  my  letter,"  Marie 
whispered,  caressing  Paul's  hand ;  "  it  is  no  wonder 
he  thought  me  false  and  cruel.  But,  oh,  my  Paul, 
how  I've  suffered !  " 

She  hid  her  face  upon  his  shoulder.  He  com- 
forted and  soothed  her,  as  only  a  lover  knows  how ; 
and  when  she  had  regained  her  composure,  asked: 

"  And  what  did  you  think  of  me,  dear  ?  " 

"  Just  what  I've  always  thought,  Paul ;  that  you 
would  receive  both  my  letters,  and  would  never  rest 
until  you  found  me.  But  I  feared  that  it  might  be 
years  before  I  saw  your  dear  face  again." 

"  You  sent  me  a  letter  from  here  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  never  got  it  —  it  isn't  necessary  to  say  why." 
—  He  paused  sadly. — "  I  understand  all  now. 
You  were  true  to  me  —  I  should  have  known 
it  all  the  time.  But  I  couldn't  believe  you  false  for 
long.  Something  told  me  that  you  were  true,  and 
that  you  were  waiting  and  longing  for  me.  I  didn't 
know  where  to  look  for  you ;  but  I  couldn't  give  you 
up  —  I  couldn't  rest  there  with  Aunt  Caroline  and 
my  cousin.  God  was  with  me!  I've  no  doubt  He 


i io  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

directed  my  steps  to  this  place.  Hester  wanted  me 
to  marry  her,  and  my  aunt  was  anxious  for  our  un- 
ion. You  understand  now  why  I  said  I  was  com- 
pelled to  leave  there,  and  seek  my  fortune  elsewhere. 
We've  come  up  through  great  tribulation,  dear  one , 
but  our  sky  is  clearing  —  and  all  will  be  well !  " 

They  sat  there,  side  by  side,  at  peace  with  them- 
selves and  all  the  world.  Mr.  Meeks  and  his  com- 
panions returned ;  and  the  conversation  became  gen- 
eral. Isaac,  in  his  quaint  way,  told  of  the  hardships 
of  the  winter  journey  to  the  new  settlement. 

"  Had  you  decided  to  come  here,  when  you  left 
Virginia?  "  'Paul  asked. 

"  No,  we  thought  o'  settlin'  in  Pennsylvany ;  but 
when  we  got  up  in  there,  we  heard  of  a  comp'ny  o' 
settlers  makin'  the'r  way  to  this  place,  so  we  hurried 
on  an'  j'ined  'em.  An'  here  we  all  are." 

He  smiled  benignly  upon  Paul  and  Marie,  as  he 
finished  speaking.  Evidently  the  big-hearted  hunter 
was  well  pleased  with  the  turn  affairs  had  taken. 

The  fire  burned  low  upon  the  hearth,  and  the  room 
was  in  semi-darkness.  It  was  after  midnight.  An- 
nie's fever  had  abated,  and  she  was  sleeping  quietly. 
The  family  prepared  to  retire  for  the  night. 

The  women  and  children  occupied  the  two  beds, 
while  the  three  men  reposed  upon  skins  spread  in 
front  of  the  fire.  The  god  of  slumber  kissed  their 
eyelids  down  —  and  they  slept. 

Before  lying  down,  Isaac  had  thrown  a  fresh  log 
upon  the  red  coals,  Sometime  during  the  small 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  in 

hours  of  the  night,  the  sleepers  were  awakened  by 
a  knock  at  the  door.  Mr.  Meeks  sprang  to  his  feet, 
and  demanded :  "  Who's  there  ?  " 

A  gutteral  voice  replied:  "  If  the  white  hunter 
would  save  his  lodge,  he  should  bestir  himself.  The 
red  tongues  of  fire  are  licking  over  it  —  and  they 
love  the  taste  of  dry  wood." 

"  An  Injin  !  "  cried  Isaac,  in  tones  of  alarm. 

"  Silverheels !  "  Paul  whispered  to  himself. 

Gumbo  shook  his  woolly  head  and  muttered :  "  De 
red  debil!" 

The  three  dashed  out  of  doors,  but  saw  no  one. 
The  stick  chimney  was  ablaze  near  the  top,  and 
the  flames  were  spreading.  A  few  minutes  of  de- 
lay would  have  doomed  the  cabin.  The  men  extin- 
guished the  fire,  and  returned  to  their  places  of 
rest;  but  they  were  nervous  and  wakeful,  and  slept 
little  more  that  night. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THERE  were  many  reasons  why  the  Ohio  Company 
chose  the  mouth  of  the  Muskingum,  as  the 
site  of  their  first  settlement.  It  was  known  to  be 
a  wooded,  well-watered  region,  with  a  soil  of  un- 
exampled fertility.  The  forests  abounded  with 
game  and  the  streams  were  full  of  fish.  No  Indian 
tribe  had  its  villages  within  many  miles  of  the  place ; 
and  Fort  Harmer  —  already  erected  at  the  mouth 
of  the  river  —  served  as  an  additional  protection. 

The  sturdy  New  England  pioneers  had  laid  out 
the  streets  of  their  proposed  city,  divided  the  land 
into  eight-acre  lots,  felled  trees  and  erected  huts 
for  their  habitation,  and  begun  the  cultivation  of 
the  soil,  when  Governor  St.  Clair  arrived  in  July. 

The  first  year  was  one  of  prosperity,  if  not  of 
plenty ;  and  at  its  close  there  were  one  hundred  and 
thirty-two  persons  in  the  new  settlement. 

The  next  year  brought  disappointment  to  all,  and 
want  and  suffering  to  many.  A  frost  in  October 
ruined  all  of  the  late  corn  and  damaged  much  of 
that  planted  earlier.  The  settlers  gathered  their 
crop ;  but  it  was  unpalatable  and  produced  sickness, 
and  the  use  of  it  was  abandoned.  The  price  of  this 
necessary  cereal  rose  to  two  dollars  a  bushel.  Those 
(112) 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  113 

persons  who  were  so  fortunate  as  to  have  money, 
bought  flour  and  meal  of  passing  barges,  trading 
up  and  down  the  river;  but  few  could  avail  them- 
selves of  this  opportunity. 

In  addition  to  the  lack  of  corn,  there  was  a  scar- 
city of  meat.  The  Indians  had  grown  jealous  of 
their  white  neighbors,  and,  in  order  to  deprive  the 
settlers  of  food,  had  killed  and  scared  away  much 
of  the  game  in  the  surrounding  forest.  Salt  was 
obtained  with  great  difficulty,  by  sending  teams  to 
the  Scioto  salt-licks.  It  took  a  month  or  more  to 
make  the  journey ;  and  the  salt  was  of  inferior  qual- 
ity, and  sold  for  eight  dollars  a  bushel. 

The  winter  of  seventeen  hundred  and  eighty-nine 
was  long  and  severe ;  and  by  early  spring  many  of 
the  people  were  at  the  point  of  actual  starvation. 
When  summer  arrived,  the  poorer  colonists  subsist- 
ed almost  wholly  upon  the  succulent  tops  of  certain 
plants,  which  they  boiled  with  a  pinch  of  salt  and 
a  little  meat. 

A  brief  description  of  this  village  of  log  huts, 
in  the  heart  of  the  American  wilderness,  as  Paul 
Graydon  found  it,  may  not  be  amiss.  It  lay  upon 
the  eastern  bank  of  the  Muskingum,  and  stretched 
its  straggling  length  from  the  shore  of  the  Ohio, 
to  the  blockhouse  known  as  Campus  Martius,  a  mile 
up  the  Muskingum.  Quite  a  group  of  cabins  stood 
upon  the  point  formed  by  the  junction  of  the  two  riv- 
ers, and  were  separated  from  their  straggling  neigh- 
bors farther  up  the  Muskingum,  by  a  small  stream 
8 


ii4  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R 

known  as  Tyber  Creek.  A  few  of  the  houses  were 
two  stories  in  height,  of  hewn  timbers,  and  had 
chimneys  of  brick.  However,  these  were  the  rare  ex- 
ception. A  rude,  wooden  bridge  spanned  Tyber 
Creek  and  afforded  means  of  communication  be- 
tween the  two  groups  of  houses.  Along  the  shore 
of  the  Muskingum,  at  various  points,  were  docks  at 
which  were  moored  barges,  pirogues  and  canoes. 
When  Isaac  Meeks  and  family  arrived  in  the  early 
winter  of  seventeen  hundred  and  eighty-nine,  there 
were  seventy-two  families  and  two  hundred  and  thir- 
ty-six men  in  the  colony. 

At  the  time  of  the  arrival  of  Paul  Graydon  and 
his  faithful  black  friend,  Gumbo,  branch  settlements 
had  been  formed  at  Belpre  —  twelve  miles  down  the 
Ohio,  and  at  Waterford  —  twenty-five  miles  up  the 
Muskingum.  The  Indians  had  grown  more  and 
more  restless  and  dissatisfied,  as  the  whites  thus 
extended  their  colonization.  However,  the  settlers 
at  Marietta  were  not  greatly  exercised,  as  they  had 
two  strong  forts,  if  danger  threatened  —  Fort  Har- 
mer,  just  across  the  river,  and  Campus  Martius. 
We  can  do  no  better  than  to  describe  the  latter  in 
the  words  of  an  early  chronicler,  who  says : 

"  It  is  the  handsomest  pile  of  buildings  on  this 
side  of  the  Allegheny  mountains,  and  in  a  few  days 
will  be  the  strongest  fortification  in  the  territory  of 
the  United  States.  It  stands  on  the  margin  of  the 
elevated  plain  on  which  are  the  remains  of  ancient 
earthworks,  thirty  feet  above  the  high  bank  of  the 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  115 

Muskingum,  twenty-nine  perches  distant  from  the 
river,  and  two  hundred  and  seventy-six  from  the 
Ohio.  It  consists  of  a  regular  square,  having  a 
blockhouse  at  each  angle,  eighteen  feet  square  on 
the  ground,  and  two  stories  high;  the  upper  story, 
on  the  outside,  or  face,  jutting  over  the  lower  one, 
eighteen  inches.  These  blockhouses  serve  as  bas- 
tions to  a  regular  fortification  of  four  sides.  The 
curtains  are  composed  of  dwelling  houses  two  stories 
high,  eighteen  feet  wide,  and  of  different  lengths. 
The  blockhouses  and  curtains  are  so  constructed, 
with  high  roofs,  etc.,  as  to  form  one  complete  and 
entire  building.  The  timber  of  which  they  are  built 
is  either  sawed  or  hewed,  four  inches  thick,  so 
that  the  walls  are  very  smooth ;  and,  when  the  seams 
are  pointed  with  mortar,  will  be  very  warm  and  com- 
fortable." 

Campus  Martius  had  two  gates  —  one  in  the  west- 
ern wall  and  one  in  the  southern.  In  the  north- 
eastern and  southwestern  watch  towers,  small  can- 
non were  placed,  to  call  the  men  from  the  fields 
and  woods,  in  case  of  an  Indian  attack.  The  cur- 
tains of  the  fort  were,  in  reality,  rows  of  well-built 
dwellings,  and  contained  a  number  of  families.  Af- 
ter this  rather  tedious  but  necessary  digression,  we 
return  to  our  characters  and  take  up  the  broken 
thread  of  our  narrative, 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  morning  after  his  arrival  in  the  settlement, 
Paul  Graydon  was  astir  early.  While  the 
women  were  preparing  the  morning  meal,  and  Isaac 
and  Gumbo  were  gone  to  Colonel  Sproat's  stable,  to 
look  after  Prince,  the  young  Englishman  saun- 
tered down  to  the  river  bank.  The  cabin  the  Meeks 
family  occupied  stood  half  way  between  the  Ohio 
shore  and  Campus  Martius,  and  about  two  hundred 
yards  from  the  bank  of  the  Muskingum.  A  min- 
ute's brisk  walking  brought  Paul  to  a  point  where 
he  could  overlook  the  peaceful  bosom  of  the  smaller 
stream. 

The  sun  was  just  rising  over  the  eastern  hills ; 
and  its  warm  effulgence  rested  upon  a  beauteous 
scene.  Paul  took  deep  draughts  of  the  flower- 
scented  air  and  feasted  his  eyes  upon  the  landscape 
spread  out  before  him.  To  the  south,  lay  the  swell- 
ing Ohio;  and  to  the  north,  the  sparkling  Mus- 
kingum disapppeared  among  the  wooded  hills.  In 
front  of  him,  rose  the  rock-ribbed  heights  back  of 
Fort  Harmer.  From  base  to  pinnacle,  they  were 
covered  with  trees  —  the  dark-green  of  the  ever- 
greens contrasting  with  the  lighter  shade  the  decidu- 
ous trees  had  but  recently  donned.  Here  and  there, 
(116) 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R  117 

the  emerald  sea  was  broken  where  the  gray  cliff 
thrust  its  wrinkled  front  outward,  or  where  the  pink 
blossoms  of  the  redbud  or  the  milk-white  petals  of 
the  dogwood  mingled  with  the  verdant  billows,  like 
fragrant  foam  on  a  rockbound  coast. 

Along  the  river  shore,  stood  sentinel  sycamores 
and  elms  of  a  century's  growth;  and  below  and 
among  them,  the  overhanging  willows  dipped  their 
pliant  fingers  into  the  stream  and  dallied  with  the 
dancing  waters. 

A  large  barge  was  lazily  crawling  into  the  mouth 
of  the  Muskingum,  and  smaller  craft  were  darting 
here  and  there.  The  dip  of  the  boatmen's  oars  min- 
gled with  the  song  of  birds  and  the  sound  of  the 
chopper's  ax ;  and  over  and  above  all,  arose  the 
laughter  of  barefoot  children  playing  around  the 
cabin  doors.  From  a  dozen  chimneys,  the  blue 
smoke  curled  skyward;  and  the  clank  of  a  drag- 
ging chain,  and  stentorian  commands,  betokened 
that  some  early-rising  husbandman  was  off  to  the 
woods  or  fields,  with  his  horned  team. 

Paul  was  about  to  retrace  his  steps,  when  a  light 
and  fragile  canoe  shot  swiftly  and  silently  up  the 
stream.  Its  occupant  was  an  Indian ;  and  a  mo- 
ment's observation  convinced  Paul  that  it  was  Sil- 
verheels.  The  ashen  paddle  rose  and  fell  with 
wonderful  regularity  and  rapidity ;  and,  urged  by 
the  vigorous  strokes,  the  canoe  quickly  disappeared 
from  view,  around  the  bend  of  the  river. 

"What  a  strange  being!"  the  young  man  mut- 


ii8  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

tered.  "  In  some  way,  I  feel  that  he  is  not  what  he 
seems.  He  has  succored  me  and  mine  —  and  I'm 
strangely  drawn  toward  him.  I  can't  believe  he's 
cruel  and  treacherous  —  half-breed  that  he  is." 

On  returning  to  the  cabin,  he  found  breakfast 
awaiting  his  arrival.  With  a  keen  appetite  born  of 
his  morning  walk,  he  seated  himself  with  the  others. 
Isaac  bent  his  head  and  mumbled  a  "  blessing " 
over  the  food,  after  which  he  remarked : 

"  This  ain't  much  of  a  meal  to  offer  to  the  likes 
o'  you,  Mr.  Paul  —  a  man  that's  alluz  been  used  to 
more'n  a  plenty;  but  it's  the  best  we've  got.  It's 
been  a  mighty  hard  winter  on  most  o'  the  settlers. 
More'n  half  of  'em  don't  hardly  know  now  where 
the  next  meal's  victuals  is  to  come  from.  It's  pur- 
ty  discouragin',  I  swan!  But  then  me  an'  mine 
oughtn't  to  complain  —  we've  got  better'n  the  av'- 
rage.  You  see  the  frost  last  October  ruined  nearly 
all  the  corn  —  made  it  so  it  wan't  even  fit  to  feed  to 
the  cattle.  Corn's  been  scarce  and  hard  to  git 
at  any  price;  an'  a  good  many  hadn't  no  money 
to  buy  with,  anyhow.  Then  the  In j ins  got  jealous 
of  us ;  an'  they've  killed  an'  scared  away  most  o' 
the  game  within  twenty  miles  o'  the  settlement. 
Bein'  a  hunter,  my  fam'ly  hain't  never  been  'thout 
meat ;  an'  I've  swopped  a  right  smart  of  it  fer 
corn  an'  milk,  an'  such  other  things  as  we  didn't 
have." 

"  But  we  couldn't  'ave  got  along,  nohow,  if  it 
hadn't  been  fer  what  little  money  we  had,"  put  in 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  119 

Nancy.  "  You  see,  there  was  salt  an'  even-thing  to 
git ;  an'  it  takes  a  heap  to  feed  a  healthy  fam'ly. 
I'm  re'l  glad  I  had  some  o'  y'r  aunt's  gold,  Mr. 
Paul,  even  if  I  didn't  git  it  in  jest  the  honestest  way. 
It's  helped  to  keep  us ;  an'  p'raps  you'll  be  willin'  to 
fergive  me,  when  I  tell  you  that  its  been  the  savin'  o' 
Marie,  an'  all  the  rest  of  us." 

Tears  were  standing  in  the  poor  woman's  eyes; 
and  her  honest  heart  was  throbbing  with  the  pain  of 
guilt  and  humiliation. 

"  For  whatever  you  may  have  done  amiss,  I  freely 
forgive  you,"  Graydon  said  quickly ;  and  there  was 
the  ring  of  sincerity  in  his  tones.  Then  he  went 
on  musingly :  "  Perhaps  it's  for  the  best,  after  all. 
We're  here  together  in  a  new  country  —  far  away 
from  the  old  life  and  its  influences.  I'm  sincerely 
thankful  the  money  that  was  intended  to  work 
evil  has  been  the  means  of  doing  good.  'Tis  a 
blessed  thing  that  inanimate  objects  will  not  always 
do  our  bidding!  " 

"  Amen !  "  said  Nancy  and  Isaac  fervently. 

Marie,  who  had  been  listening  silently,  now  arose, 
and,  stepping  softly  behind  her  lover,  bent  back  his 
head  and  kissed  his  upturned  face.  Then  she  danced 
away  from  him,  clapping  her  hands  and 
laughing.  Paul  was  a  little  embarrassed  by  his 
sweetheart's  audacity ;  and  his  face  flushed.  Mr. 
Meeks  and  his  wife  indulged  in  a  laugh,  and  Gumbo 
guffawed.  Even  the  sick  girl  upon  the  bed 
chuckled  audibly.  Marie's  proceeding  had  the  ef- 


IX)  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

feet  of  banishing  all  reminiscent  sorrows  and  future 
forebodings.  Everyone  felt  more  at  ease,  than  at 
any  time  since  Paul's  arrival. 

Johnnie,  who  had  left  the  table  and  gone  to  the 
bedside  of  his  sister,  now  cried : 

"  Oh,  Mam !    Annie's  broke  out  with  somethin' !  " 

"  What!  "  Isaac  ejaculated,  springing  to  his  feet. 

"  Smallpox ! "  shrieked  Nancy,  wringing  her 
hands. 

They  gathei  ed  around  the  bed,  all  gesticulating 
and  talking  at  the  same  time.  The  sick  child  began 
to  cry. 

"  Do  you  feel  worse?  "  Nancy  anxiously  inquired. 

"  Yes,"  Annie  sobbed,  drawing  her  lithe  little 
body  into  a  knot  and  hiding  her  head  beneath  the 
covers. 

"  Where  do  you  feel  worse,  Annie  dear  ?  "  Marie 
asked,  kindly. 

'I  —  I  —  don't  —  don't  —  know  !  " 

Paul  saw  at  once  that  the  child  was  simply 
frightened,  and  that  whatever  the  disease,  she  was 
not  seriously  ill.  Therefore  he  said : 

"  Our  words  and  actions  have  alarmed  her ;  let's 
keep  quiet.  Isaac,  have  you  no  physician  in  the 
colony  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  got  a  good  one  —  Dr.  Jabez  True.  He 
live?  jest  across  Tyber  Creek.  Do  you  think  we'd 
better  'ave  him,  Mr.  Paul?" 

"Certainly!"  Paul  answered.  "If  this  disease 
be  smallpox,  we  should  know  it  immediately." 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  121 

"  Johnnie,  run  down  an'  tell  Doc  True  to  come  up 
here,  right  away." 

In  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time  Johnnie  re- 
turned, accompanied  by  the  physician. 

Dr.  True  was  a  young  man  of  thirty  years,  tall, 
slightly  stooped,  and  somewhat  ungainly  in  his 
movements.  His  forehead  was  low  and  his  brows 
were  bulging.  A  large,  aquiline  nose  overhanging  a 
wide,  but  firm,  mouth  did  not  add  to  his  facial  beau- 
ty. But  his  was  a  countenance  beaming  with  the 
warmth  of  a  big  heart. 

"  Good  morning  —  good  morning!  "  he  cried,  jo- 
vially, as  he  entered  the  door.  "  Ah !  the  little  girl's 
sick,  eh  ?  Pulse,  a  little  hurried ;  tongue,  coated ; 
and  skin  covered  with  an  eruption.  Just  open  the 
door  a  little  wider,  that  I  may  see  better.  Thank 
you.  Aye,  aye,  I  see !  You  thought  you  had  a  case 
of  smallpox,  eh  ?  " 

"  We  didn't  know  — "  Nancy  began ;  but  the 
doctor  held  up  his  finger  and  stopped  her. 

"  Well,  do  you  know  now?  "  he  asked,  his  small 
and  restless  gray  eyes  twinkling  merrily. 

"  No,"  Mrs.  Meeks  admitted,  "  I  don't." 

"  No !  Well,  it's  fortunate  somebody  does.  Your 
daughter  has  a  very  mild  attack  of  measles  —  noth- 
ing more.  All  she  needs  is  to  be  kept  warm  and 
quiet.  I  wish  you  good  morning." 

Dr.  True  withdrew  from  the  cabin ;  but  the  sun- 
shine that  he  had  brought  with  him  remained.  As 


122  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

he  turned  the  corner  of  the  house,  Paul  remarked : 
"  What  a  pleasant  gentleman !  " 

"  He's  a  good  doctor  an'  a  good  man,"  Isaac 
commented ;  "  an'  I  don't  know  what  the  sick  peo- 
ple 'Id  'ave  done  here  this  winter,  if  it  hadn't  been 
fer  him.  He  went  in  all  kinds  o'  weather  —  never 
stopped  fer  nothin' — an'  never  got  a  cent  fer  his 
services.  He's  —  " 

"  Look  here,  Isaac  Meeks !  "  his  wife  vociferated. 
"If  you  want  anything  to  eat  fer  dinner,  you'd 
better  take  some  corn  over  to  Colonel  Stacey's,  an' 
grind  it  on  the  hand-mill.  Ther'  ain't  a  pint  o' 
meal  in  the  house." 

"  All  right,"  yawned  the  humble  Isaac,  as  he  pre- 
pared to  do  her  bidding. 

"  Isaac,"  Paul  inquired,  "  do  you  know  where 
Gumbo  and  I  can  obtain  temporary  lodgings?  Of 
course  we  can't  think  of  quartering  ourselves  upon 
you." 

"  You're  both  welcome  to  stay,  if  you  can  put 
up  with  the  fare,"  was  Mrs.  Meeks'  rejoinder. 

"  We  can't  accept  your  kind  invitation,"  Paul  re- 
plied, quickly ;  "  you're  overcrowded  already  — 
then,  it  would  not  be  proper  for  me  to  stay  here 
with  Marie." 

"  Perhaps  you  can  obtain  quarters  at  Campus 
Martius,"  suggested  Marie. 

"  Just  the  thing !  "  cried  Isaac.  "  They've  got 
room  up  there,  I'll  be  bound.  Jest  wait  a  little 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  123 

while  till  I  trot  over  to  Colonel  Stacey's  an'  grind 
this  corn,  an'  I'll  go  up  with  you." 

Isaac  was  gone  about  a  half  hour.  When  he 
returned  —  panting  and  sweating  from  his  exer- 
tions, for  the  day  was  growing  warm  —  he  was 
accompanied  by  a  young  man  of  about  twenty-four 
years,  to  whom  Mrs.  Meeks  and  Marie  accorded  a 
hearty  greeting. 

Isaac  said :  "  This  is  John  Stacey,  Mr.  Paul. 
He's  a  son  o'  the  colonel  —  an'  a  chip  off  the  ol* 
block.  I  hope  you  an'  him  '11  be  good  friends ;  fer 
him  an'  his  folks  has  been  mighty  kind  to  us.  He's 
goin'  up  to  Campus  Martius  with  us." 

The  two  young  men  shook  hands  and  looked  upon 
each  other  admiringly.  Both  were  erect,  broad- 
shouldered  and  athletic  —  perfect  specimens  of  phy- 
sical manhood.  As  they  moved  off  in  the  direction 
of  the  fort,  Stacey  said,  laughingly: 

"  I  welcome  you  to  the  settlement,  Mr.  Graydon, 
although  I'd  fain  be  your  rival." 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  Paul  returned,  smil- 
ingly. 

"  Mr.  Meeks  informs  me  that  you're  Miss  Fonta..- 
elle's  betrothed." 

"  I  am,"  was  the  curt  reply.  And  Paul  looked 
the  young  man  full  in  the  face. 

Stacey  made  a  mock  gesture  of  despair,  and 
answered  good-humoredly :  "  I  abandon  the  field, 
then.  I've  greatly  admired  Marie  —  Miss  Fonta- 
nelle;  but  I'm  clever  enough  to  know  that  I  have 


124  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

not  the  ghost  of  a  chance,  now.  In  fact,  I  doubt 
if  I  ever  had  a  chance  —  she  never  encouraged 
me.  It  was  a  one-sided  affair.  You  have  a  prior 
claim  —  I  accept  the  inevitable.  A  man  of  gentle 
birth,  who  will  follow  a  woman  into  such  a  wilder- 
ness as  this,  deserves  her ;  and  I  will  fight  for  you, 
if  necessary,  to  see  that  you  get  her." 

Graydon  was  greatly  confused  by  this  unexpected 
confession,  and  hardly  knew  what  to  do  or  say. 
However,  he  managed  to  put  forth  his  hand,  and 
murmur  an  almost  inaudible  —  "  Thank  you."  John 
Stacey  took  the  proffered  hand  and  wrung  it  hear- 
tily, saying: 

"  The  man  to  whom  I  give  my  hand,  I  give  my 
friendship ;  and  I  promise  you  that  you  shall  never 
have  cause  to  accuse  me  of  double  dealing." 

This  conversation  had  been  carried  on  in  low 
tones;  and  neither  Isaac  nor  Gumbo,  who  followed 
the  young  men  at  a  little  distance,  were  aware  of 
its  import.  The  negro  now  called  to  Paul,  asking: 

"  Say,  Marse  Paul !  What  kin'  ob  place  is  dat 
whar  we's  gwine  ?  " 

"  What  place  ?  "  returned  Graydon,  without  look- 
ing back. 

"  Dat  Grampus  Margaret." 

"  It's  a  fort." 

John  Stacey  laughed  uproariously  at  the  negro's 
pronunciation ;  which  caused  Gumbo  to  inquire : 

"  W'at  is  it  you  calls  de  place,  Marse  Paul  ?  " 

"  Campus  Martius." 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR        .       125 

"  Does  dey  call  it  Trampus  Marchus,  'kase  de  so- 
jers  am  alluz  trampin'  an'  marchin'?  " 

"  I  suppose  so,"  answered  Paul,  half  dreamily ; 
while  Stacey  and  Isaac  bent  double,  with  suppressed 
merriment. 

They  entered  at  the  western  gate  of  the  fort — 
over  which  Winthrop  Sargent,  secretary  of  the  ter- 
ritory, had  his  office  —  and,  turning  to  the  right, 
sought  the  quarters  of  Governor  Arthur  St.  Clair, 
in  the  southwestern  blockhouse.  They  found  him 
seated  in  a  large,  bare  room  on  the  ground  floor, 
busily  writing  at  a  spindle-legged  secretary.  He 
nodded  to  them,  as  they  entered,  and  begged  them 
to  be  seated.  They  found  seats  upon  a  long  bench 
running  along  one  side  of  the  room ;  and  awaited  the 
governor's  pleasure.  After  writing  furiously  for 
some  minutes,  St.  Clair  laid  down  his  quill  and 
turned  toward  them.  He  was  a  dignified,  smooth- 
faced man  of  fifty-six  years,  with  a  countenance 
seamed  with  care,  and  something  about  his  eyes  and 
mouth,  which  seemed  to  portend  the  great  sorrow 
that  was  to  come  upon  him.  His  dress  consisted  of 
a  full-skirted  coat  of  blue  cloth,  from  the  sleeves 
of  which  peeped  folds  of  lace,  a  maroon  colored 
waistcoat,  brown  trousers,  black  hose  and  silver- 
buckled  shoes.  His  shirt-front  was  a  mass  of  bil- 
lowy ruffles.  In  answer  to  the  governor's  direct 
question,  John  Stacey  said : 

"  Governor  St.  Clair,  I  beg  leave  to  introduce  to 
you,  Mr.  Paul  Graydon  and  his  black  friend,  Gum- 


126  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

bo,  from  Virginia.  They  arrived  in  the  settlement 
last  night,  and  are  desirous  of  procuring  temporary 
quarters." 

The  governor  shook  hands  with  the  two  newcom- 
ers, and  scrutinized  them  keenly.  Motioning  them 
to  be  seated  again,  he  said : 

"  You  are  from  Virginia,  Mr.  Graydon  ?  '' 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"A  Virginian  by  birth?" 

"  An  Englishman." 

"  So  I  thought.     And  this  black  man  ?  " 

"  He's  a  friend  of  mine." 

"Your  servant  —  your  slave?" 

"  No,  sir,"  Paul  replied  stoutly ;  "  a  freeman  —  as 
free  as  air." 

"  You  gave  him  his  freedom?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  A  noble  act !  From  your  manner  and  speech, 
I  judge  that  you're  a  gentleman  of  education  and 
refinement,  Mr.  Graydon.  May  I  inquire  what 
brings  you  here  ?  " 

"  To  seek  my  fortune  —  " 

"  An'  to  foller  up  one  o'  the  purtiest  an'  sweetest 
little  gals  in  the  country,"  Isaac  completed. 

The  governor's  lips  twitched  —  and  then  a  smile 
irradiated  his  features.  Paul's  face  was  scarlet 
from  mortified  pride.  St.  Clair  recovered  his  com- 
posure, and  asked  hurriedly: 

"  To  whom  do  you  refer,  Mr, 

"  To  my  niece," 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  127 

"Miss  Fontanelle?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Isaac,  proudly. 

"  A  winsome  lass,"  remarked  Governor  St.  Clair, 
half  musingly ;  "  and  the  friend  of  my  daughter 
Louise.  I  hope  you  may  like  the  place,  Mr.  Gray- 
don  —  and  that  you  may  succeed  in  whatever  good 
thing  you  may  undertake.  You've  come  at  a  time 
of  great  want  and  distress,  however.  May  I  ask 
what  you  mean  to  do?  " 

"  He's  a-goin'  to  help  me  in  gittin'  game  fer  the 
settlement,  for  the  present,"  Meeks  interjected  be- 
fore Paul  could  frame  a  reply. 

"  Very  well,"  was  the  governor's  answer,  "  we 
need  skillful  hunters ;  and,  if  Mr.  Meeks  recommends 
you,  I  know  there's  no  question  of  your  prowess. 
In  regard  to  quarters,  you  must  see  General  Putnam 
or  Colonel  Sproat.  Either  will  obtain  a  place  for 
you." 

Then  he  turned  to  Gumbo,  and  asked : 

"  My  black  friend,  do  you  understand  the  care 
of  horses  ?  " 

"  Y-e-s,  sah,"  Gumbo  stammered. 

"  Would  you  like  to  care  for  mine?  " 

The  negro  studied  for  a  moment,  then  he  replied : 
"  Yes,  sah ;  if  I  can  take  keer  ob  Marse  Paul's  hoss, 
Prince,  'long  wid  yours." 

"  That  can  be  arranged  satisfactorily.  Ah !  here 
is  my  daughter." 

A  vigorous-looking  young  woman  of  eighteen 
summers  entered  the  apartment,  with  elastic  step 


128  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

and  sprightly  air.  She  had  a  beautiful  oval  face 
and  soulful  eyes ;  and  was  clad  in  a  close-fitting  rid- 
ing habit  of  dark  green  cloth.  Going  directly  up  to 
her  father,  she  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck 
and  kissed  him.  Then  she  stepped  back  and,  tap- 
ping her  skirt  with  the  whip  that  she  held  in  her 
gauntleted  hand,  she  said: 

"  I  am  off  for  a  canter,  father.  I  —  " 
Here  she  became  aware  of  Graydon's  presence. 
She  stopped  speaking  suddenly ;  her  eyes  fell,  and  a 
pink  flush  mantled  her  cheeks.  Governor  St.  Clair 
stepped  forward  and  introduced  the  two.  After 
shaking  hands  with  Paul,  Miss  St.  Clair  cordially 
greeted  the  others  —  not  excepting  Gumbo.  As 
the  men  were  passing  out,  she  detained  John  Stacey 
and  held  a  short  conversation  with  him,  in  an  under- 
tone. When  all  had  gone,  Governor  St.  Clair  re- 
seated himself  at  the  secretary ;  but  before  resuming 
his  writing  he  asked  suddenly : 

"  What  do  you  think  of  him,  daughter?  " 
"  Of  whom,  father  ?  "  returned  Louise,  in  an  art- 
less way. 

"  You  know !     Of  young  Gray  don  ?  " 
"  He  is  handsome  and  noble-looking." 
Arthur  St.  Clair  shook  his  finger  impressively, 
as  he  said: 

"  You  mustn't  lose  your  heart  there,  Louise ;  an- 
other has  won  him." 

"  Yes,  I  know  —  John  Stacey  told  me,"  was  all 
the  reply  she  made,  as  she  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

ON  leaving  Governor  St.  Clair's  apartments,  our 
friends  directed  their  steps  toward  the  south- 
east blockhouse,  where  General  Rufus  Putnam  and 
family  at  that  time  lived.  The  old  Revolutionary 
officer  was  just  emerging  from  his  door,  as  the 
men  came  up.  He  was  a  hale  man,  a  little  past  the 
prime  of  life,  but  muscular  and  active.  His  form 
was  tall  and  commanding ;  his  features  were  rugged 
and  resolute.  An  injury  to  one  eye  gave  a  pecu- 
liar, half-sinister  expresssion  to  his  face,  that  im- 
pressed itself  upon  the  mind  of  the  beholder.  He 
was  a  firm,  brave  man,  of  great  executive  ability, 
brusque  and  abrupt  in  his  manners,  but  kind-heart- 
ed and  humane,  withal. 

"  Good  morning,  Stacey,"  was  his  greeting,  as 
the  visitors  drew  near.  "  Present  your  compan- 
ions." 

"  This  is  Isaac  Meeks  —  you  know  Mr.  Meeks, 
general  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes !  I  know  Meeks.     Go  on." 
"  And  this  is  Mr.  Paul  Graydon  of  Virginia  —  " 
"  And  that's  his  black  slave,  I  suppose !  "  Putnam 
interrupted. 

Paul  Graydon's  English  temper  aroused;  and  he 

dag) 


130  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

made  no  attempt  to  conceal  his  irritation,  as  he  re- 
plied hotly : 

"  General  Putnam,  it  seems  a  little  strange 
to  me,  that  one  who  is  the  founder  of  a 
colony  whose  charter  contains  an  article  prohib- 
iting involuntary  servitude,  should  be  unable  to  real- 
ize that  a  white  man  and  a  black  man  may  be  friends 
and  associates,  and  yet  both  remain  free !  " 

"He's  not  your  slave,  then?"  the  general  re- 
turned, his  impassive  face  showing  not  the  slightest 
change  of  expression." 

"  No,  sir." 

"  I  suppose  you  gave  him  his  freedom  ?  " 

Paul  nodded  stiffly  ;  he  was  growing  tired  of  being 
plied  with  questions.  But  General  Putnam  con- 
tinued : 

"  You  hail  from  Virginia  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  From,  what  part  do  you  come  ?  " 

"  The  Shenandoah  valley." 

"  You're  one  of  those  the  Indians  call  '  Long 
Knives,'  then.  Are  you  and  Isaac  Meeks  old  ac- 
quaintances ?  " 

"  We  are." 

"  Well,  I  hope  you're  as  good  a  hunter  as  he. 
But  there's  one  thing  about  which  I  wish  to  cau- 
tion all  of  you  —  especially  you  hot-blooded  young 
fellows.  Avoid  all  altercations  with  roving  Indians. 
They're  growing  more  and  more  restless  and  surly. 
We  shall  have  trouble  with  them  in  the  not  dis- 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  131 

tant  future ;  but  I  don't  wish  to  have  the  war 
precipitated.  With  our  scattered  settlements,  our 
incomplete  defences  and  unorganized  militia,  we're 
in  no  fit  condition  to  withstand  a  prolonged  and 
vigorous  siege.  When  we've  raised  another  crop 
of  corn  and  vegetables,  and  strengthened  our  forti- 
fications, possibly  we  may  be  able  to  repel  their 
attacks.  Now,  Mr.  Graydon,  there's  a  vacant  room 
in  the  northeast  blockhouse,  that  you  are  welcome 
to  occupy ;  and  you  can  move  your  effects  there,  as 
soon  as  you  choose.  Stacey,  you'll  show  the  gentle- 
man the  place.  I  bid  you  all  good  morning." 

He  strode  away  in  the  direction  of  the  governor's 
office. 

By  evening,  Paul  and  Gumbo  were  installed  in 
their  quarters.  The  other  inhabitants  of  the  for- 
tress made  liberal  contributions  to  the  meager  stock 
of  cooking  utensils  and  household  goods,  that  Mrs. 
Meeks  had  lent  the  two;  and  as  Gumbo  looked 
upon  the  array,  he  chuckled: 

"  Ki  yi !  Marse  Paul,  dis  seerns  like  ol'  days  in 
my  mammy's  cabin  'way  back  in  ol'  Virginny. 
We'll  hab  good  times  —  neber  fear.  Fs  a  splendif- 
erous cook,  and  you's  a  mighty  ramrod  — " 

"  You  mean  Nimrod,  Gumbo." 

"  Dat's  w'at  I  said,  Marse  Paul.  You's  a  mighty 
Nimrod,  an'll  furnace  plenty  ob  meat  an'  co'nmeal ; 
an'  I'll  do  de  cookin'  an'  'tend  to  Prince  an'  Marse 
'Glair's  hosses.  All  Fs  'feared  ob  is  dat  w'en  yo' 


132  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

marries  dat  purty  little  gal,  you  won't  hab  no  use  fo' 
ol'  Gumbo." 

And  the  negro  looked  beseechingly  at  his  former 
master. 

"  I'll  not  marry  until  I've  a  home  and  land  of  my 
own,"  Paul  replied  almost  sadly ;  "  and  I've  no 
money  to  purchase  land.  However,  you  shall  have 
a  home  with  us  always." 

"  I's  ober  joyful  to  hear  you  say  dat,  Marse  Paul. 
'T'ould  a-broke  dis  nigger's  heart  to  tink  dat  you'd 
eber  git  tired  ob  habin'  him  'round.  I's  gwine  down 
now,  to  bring  Prince  up  an'  put  him  in  de  stable 
wid  Marse  'Clair's  cattle." 

After  supper,  Paul  went  to  the  home  of  Isaac 
Meeks.  The  air  within  doors  was  warm ;  and  the 
two  lovers  left  the  cabin  and  strolled  down  to  the 
bank  of  the  Muskingum.  The  scene  was  one  of 
peace  and  quiet,  giving  no  hint  of  the  lurking  danger 
that  ever  hovered  near.  No  harsher  sound  was 
heard,  than  the  ripple  of  the  water  at  their  feet,  or 
the  tinkle  of  cowbells  in  the  paddock  near  at  hand. 
Seating  themselves  upon  a  fallen  tree  trunk,  they 
talked  over  the  past  and  made  plans  for  the  future. 

"  I  see  little  opportunity  of  procuring  land  here, 
without  money,"  Paul  said ;  "  and,  without  land  and 
home,  what  can  one  do  toward  supporting  a  family  ? 
Land  we  must  have,  Marie  —  land  upon  which  we 
can  erect  a  home  of  our  own,  let  it  be  ever  so 
humble." 

"  Colonel  Stacey  told  Uncle  Isaac,  a  few  days  ago, 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  133 

that  the  Ohio  Company  intends  to  donate  a  large 
section  of  land,  to  actual  settlers,  this  summer  and 
fall,"  was  Marie's  answer. 

"  Where  is  this  tract  situated  ?  "  he  asked,  eagerly. 

"  A  number  of  miles  up  the  Muskingum.  Uncle 
says  the  valley  is  level  and  very  fertile  —  just  as  it 
is  here ;  and  that,  if  a  colony  is  formed,  he  will  go." 

Graydon's  face  brightened.  He  thought  he  saw 
a  way  out  of  his  difficulties.  "  I'll  go,  too,"  he  re- 
plied, "  and  enter  land.  Then,  when  I  have  a  house 
and  a  clearing,  we  shall  be  married." 

She  patted  his  tanned  cheek  and  murmured : 

"  It's  too  bad  that  my  boy  should  be  compelled  to 
leave  all  that  makes  life  worth  living,  and  come  into 
this  wild  country,  where  there  is  nothing  but  want 
and  danger  —  and  all  for  my  sake." 

He  tenderly  drew  her  to  him,  and  whispered : 
"  It's  no  sacrifice!  I  am  pleased  that  it's  so.  We'll 
make  our  own  way,  sweetheart." 

They  sat  for  some  time  in  silence.  Suddenly  she 
cried :  "  Oh !  did  you  meet  the  governor's  eldest 
daughter  today  ?  She  and  I  are  good  friends." 

"  I  met  her  —  yes." 

"  Did  you  fall  in  love  with  her?"  she  roguishly 
interrogated. 

"  No." 

"  She  is  beautiful." 

"Indeed?" 

"  And  clever  and  accomplished." 

"  I've  no  doubt." 


134  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  And  yet  you  didn't  lose  your  heart?  " 

"  I  had  lost  it  already." 

In  the  starlight  he  saw  a  pair  of  mischievous  eyes 
and  two  pouting  lips  —  but  it  is  not  incumbent  upon 
us  to  say  what  he  did.  Then  he  held  the  young  wo- 
man at  arm's  length  and  said : 

"  Now,  my  sweet  inquisitor,  allow  me  to  catechise 
you." 

"  Very  well." 

"  Do  you  know  a  young  man  of  the  settlement, 
John  Stacey  by  name  ?  " 

"  I  do." 

"  He's  a  handsome,  manly  fellow  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  one  any  woman  might  love." 

"  True." 

Paul  was  growing  a  little  uneasy ;  Marie  was  ad- 
mitting too  much.  He  went  on : 

"  In  fact,  an  attractive  young  man,  in  many  re- 
spects." 

"  Indeed,  he  is." 

"  Do  you  know  of  any  woman  that  loves  him?  " 

"  I  do !  " 

Paul  almost  lost  his  breath.  His  words  were 
barely  audible,  as  he  finished: 

"  To  whom  do  you  refer?  " 

"  His  mother !  "  —  And  she  laughed  roguishly. 
Presently  she  said  in  all  seriousness : 

"  No,  my  Paul,  I  love  none  but  you.  Say  what 
you  will,  I  know  what  you  have  sacrificed  for  my 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  135 

sake.  Had  you  loved  your  cousin,  you  would  be 
married  and  happy  today." 

"  Married,  perhaps ;  but  happy  —  no,"  was  the 
unhesitating  reply.  "  I  lived  under  the  shadow  of 
the  institution  of  slavery  about  as  long  as  I  could 
bear  it.  I'm  sincerely  thankful  I've  cast  my  lot  in  a 
territory  whose  inhabitants  do  not  traffic  in  human 
life.  Some  day  it  will  take  a  long  and  bloody  war 
to  kill  the  monster  which,  by  that  time,  will  be  sap- 
ping the  energies  of  the  best  people  of  the  South." 

Paul  Graydon's  words  were  prophetic.  A  monu- 
ment erected  to  the  memory  of  Washington  County 
soldiers,  who  fell  in  the  great  struggle  he  foresaw, 
stands  near  where  he  and  his  betrothed  were,  that 
night,  sitting. 

When  they  returned  to  the  Meeks  cabin,  Paul  was 
anxious  to  discover  what  Isaac  knew  of  Silverheels ; 
and  asked  about  the  warning  of  the  night  before. 

"  The  voice  sounded  like  that  of  a  redskin,"  was 
Isaac's  evasive  answer. 

"  Perhaps  it  was  one  of  your  neighbor's,"  Paul 
suggested. 

Isaac  shook  his  head. 

"  Injin  talk,  clear  through!  He  acted  jest  like 
one,  too ;  give  the  alarm  an'  run  away  in  the  dark. 
A  white  man  'Id  'ave  staid  to  help  put  the  fire  out." 

"  But  he  did  give  us  warning.  Would  an  Indian 
have  done  that  ?  " 

"  That  very  question's  been  puzzlin'  me  all  day ; 
an'  I  can't  come  to  but  one  c'nclusion." 


136  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  And  that  is  ?  " 

"  That  the  feller  at  the  door  was  a  halfbreed  call- 
ed Silverheels.  He  hangs  'round  the  settlements,  at 
times,  an'  pr'tends  to  be  very  friendly  —  but  you 
can't  trust  an  Injin;  an'  he's  got  Injin  in  him." 

"  Where  does  this  halfbreed  live,  Isaac  ?  " 

Mr.  Meeks  filled  and  lighted  his  pipe,  before  re- 
plying: 

"  He  has  a  hut  some'rs  up  the  Muskingum  —  'r 
Moose  Eye,  as  the  In j  ins  all  call  it.  As  near  as  I 
know,  he's  a  halfbreed  Shawnee  that's  left  his  tribe, 
fer  some  reason.  He  talks  good  English;  an'  some 
folks  say  he  has  some  book  learnin'  —  I  don't  know. 
One  thing  I  do  know :  I  wouldn't  trust  him  as  fer's 
I  could  throw  a  bear  by  the  tail !  He's  a  Injin  —  an' 
the  worst  kind,  fer  he's  a  Shawnee." 

"  Are  the  Shawnees  worse  than  other  Indians, 
Isaac?" 

"  They  are  the  crudest,  bloodthirstiest  people  on 
earth !  Ther's  nothing  too  mean  fer  a  Shawnee  to 
do." 

"  They're  brave,  are  they  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ther's  no  gainsayin'  that  they're  brave.  But 
'taint  no  use  talkin',  Mr.  Paul ;  a  redskin  ain't  fit  to 
live !  You  mustn't  put  no  confidence  in  'em,  'r  you'll 
regret  it  the  longest  day  you  live." 

When  Paul  reached  the  fort  he  found  the  gate 
closed  for  the  night,  and  had  some  trouble  gaining 
admittance.  He  dropped  asleep  almost  as  soon  as  he 
touched  his  bed ;  but  spent  a  restless  night  dreaming 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  137 

of  famines  and  Indian  encounters.  At  early  dawn 
he  arose,  and,  snatching  a  few  mouthfuls  of  food, 
set  out  upon  a  hunting  expedition,  accompanied  by 
Isaac  Meeks  and  John  Stacey. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

SPRING  with  all  its  beauties  came  and  went.  But 
there  was  neither  feasting  nor  merrymaking 
for  the  poor  colonists  at  Marietta  and  the  outlying 
settlements.  Gaunt  want  stalked  beside  them  in  the 
woods  and  fields,  and  flashed  his  white  teeth  at  their 
cabin  doors.  Sickness  —  caused  mainly  by  the  scant 
quantity  and  poor  quality  of  food  —  prevailed  to  an 
alarming  extent ;  and  Dr.  Jabez  True  got  little  rest 
or  sleep.  He  made  frequent  visits  to  Belpre  and 
Waterford,  beside  attending  the  sick  at  Marietta. 
All  this  he  did  without  the  hope  or  thought  of  re- 
ceiving adequate  compensation  for  his  services.  His 
was  a  life  of  self-sacrifice ;  and  he  gave  his  best 
years  to  those  who  could  pay  him  in  nothing  but 
tears  and  sobs.  Peace  to  his  ashes ! 

With  all  their  sickness,  want  and  worry,  the  Ma- 
rietta colonists  were  courageous  and  hopeful,  if  not 
at  all  times  blithe  and  cheerful.  Each  lent  a  helping 
hand,  and,  in  so  doing,  forgot  a  part  of  his  own  de- 
privation. 

Paul  Graydon  and  John  Stacey  became  fast 
friends.  They  hunted  and  fished  —  sometimes  ac- 
companied by  Isaac  Meeks;  and  many  were  the 
pleasant  and  profitable  hours  they  spent  together. 
They  were  congenial  companions,  and  enjoyed  the 
(138) 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  139 

excitement  of  a  hunter  s  life ;  while  their  efforts  en- 
abled the  settlers  the  better  to  eke  out  an  existence. 
It  was  a  luckless  day,  indeed,  when  they  did  not 
return  bearing  some  worthy  trophy  of  their  prowess. 
And  yet  the  day  came  when  they  were  forced  to  ac- 
knowledge to  themselves,  that  their  skill  and  cun- 
ning had  availed  naught,  and  to  return  empty 
handed. 

Marie  Fontanelle  and  Louise  St.  Clair  had  been 
close  companions  ever  since  the  date  of  the  former's 
arrival  in  the  colony.  The  advent  of  Paul  in  no  way 
interfered  with  their  friendly  intercourse.  What 
Louise  was  to  Marie,  John  was  to  Paul;  and,  as  a 
consequence,  the  four  spent  much  time  together. 
They  rode  on  horseback  through  the  green  and 
shady  aisles  of  the  forest ;  boated  upon  the  rivers ; 
and  rambled  through  the  settlement,  at  will.  As  the 
season  advanced,  however,  they  grew  more  circum- 
spect, and  seldom  went  far  beyond  sight  of  the  vil- 
lage ;  for  the  Indians  daily  grew  more  surly  and 
threatening.  At  this  time,  the  savages  did  not  ap- 
proach the  borders  of  the  settlement,  but  lay  in  wait 
down  the  Ohio  or  up  the  Muskingum,  to  wreak  ven- 
geance upon  some  unwary  traveler  or  venturesome 
hunter. 

Paul  and  Marie,  when  alone,  often  talked  of  their 
absent  friends  and  wondered  why  they  were  not  lov- 
ers. They  were  so  well  suited  to  each  other.  The 
fates  willed  it  otherwise,  however.  It  was  patent 
to  all  observers,  that  John  preferred  Marie  and  that 


140  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

Louise  was  partial  to  Paul.  When  the  four  were 
together,  Paul  was  more  often  Louise's  companion, 
leaving  Marie  to  the  care  of  John. 

One  beautiful  June  Sunday,  Rev.  Daniel  Story, 
who  had  come  to  the  colony  in  the  spring  of  seven- 
teen hundred  and  eighty-nine,  was  preaching  to  his 
congregation  at  Campus  Martius.  At  that  time 
services  were  held  in  the  upper  story  of  the  north- 
west blockhouse.  The  room  had  been  fitted  with 
a  rude  desk  and  benches ;  and  seated  about  two  hun- 
dred persons.  On  this  particular  morning,  it  was 
comfortably  filled  with  a  mixed  assembly  in  motley 
garb.  The  high-born  dame  sat,  cheek  by  jowl,  with 
the  backwoods  slattern ;  and  the  revolutionary  cock- 
ed hat  was  on  intimate  terms  with  the  coonskin  cap. 
Like  their  New  England  sires,  many  of  the  men  had 
come  to  church  bearing  their  firearms ;  and  their 
guns,  stacked  in  the  corners  of  the  room,  gave  the 
place  the  appearance  of  an  arsenal. 

The  balmy  air,  soporific  with  the  moist,  spicy  smell 
of  the  green  woodland,  stole  through  the  narrow 
openings  in  the  log  walls  and  soothed  into  slumber 
more  than  one  devout  believer.  A  gold-banded  bum- 
ble-bee, his  sturdy  legs  laden  with  the  pollen  of  the 
pumpkin  blosssoms  in  the  fields  beyond  the  fortress, 
floated  in  on  the  fragrant  tide,  and  took  infinite 
pleasure  in  buzzing  and  booming  here  and  there, 
and  undoing  the  work  the  breeze  had  done. 

The  minister  was  a  tall,  slender  young  man,  with 
pale  face  and  stooped  shoulders;  but  the  tones  of 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  141 

his  voice  were  deep  and  sonorous.  He  read  from 
closely  written  manuscript;  and  a  profound  hush 
fell  upon  the  audience,  and  one  and  all  listened  at- 
tentively to  what  he  was  saying.  As  he  proceeded, 
he  touched  upon  the  Indians  and  the  duties  of  the 
settlers  toward  the  benighted  heathen. 

"  We  should  deal  gently  with  them,"  he  said,  "  for 
the  sake  of  the  Father  of  all.  If  we,  having  the  light 
of  the  Sacred  Word  to  guide  us,  persecute  and  op- 
press them,  how  great  shall  be  our  punishment! 
They  are  ignorant  and  know  not  what  they  do ;  we 
are  enlightened  and  know  good  from  evil.  Let  us 
beware  that  we  err  not !  " 

His  words  created  a  stir.  A  breezy  murmur  ran 
through  the  congregation. 

The  minister  continued : 

"  We  should  give  the  red  men  no  cause  for  jeal- 
ousy or  envy.  At  present  we  are  at  peace  with 
them  ;  we  should  strive  to  —  " 

Here  he  was  interrupted  by  a  disturbance  in  the 
rear  of  the  house.  A  coatless,  breathless  man  had 
dashed  through  the  western  gate  of  the  fort  and 
bounded  up  the  stairs.  He  now  stood  at  the  door 
of  the  room  in  which  the  people  were  assembled, 
sweat  dripping  from  his  sunburned  face  and  his 
limbs  trembling  with  exertion  and  excitement. 

"  Is  Dr.  True  here?  "  he  hurriedly  inquired,  as  he 
doffed  his  cap  and  closely  scanned  the  faces  before 
him. 


142  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  What's  wanted,  my  good  man  ?  "  the  minister 
inquired. 

"  I  want  Dr.  True,  and  I  want  him  immediately. 
Is  he  here?" 

"  Here  I  am,"  cried  the  latter,  as  he  hastily  arose 
and  advanced  toward  the  door.  "  Is  some  one  se- 
riously ill?  " 

The  members  of  the  congregation  craned  their 
necks  to  catch  the  reply;  but  the  man  dropped  his 
voice  to  a  semi-whisper  and  his  answer  was  lost. 

"Is  that  true  —  can  it  be  possible!"  was  Dr. 
True's  involuntary  exclamation,  as  he  crushed  his 
hat  upon  his  head  and  followed  the  man  from  the 
room.  As  the  two  hurriedly  descended  the  stair- 
way they  talked  in  ordinary  tones,  and  bits  of  the 
conversation  floated  into  the  room  above.  Those 
near  the  door  caught  the  words,  "  Indians  —  two 
killed  and  one  wounded  —  attacked  the  boat  — 
strangers  —  hid  in  the  willows." 

This  was  enough.  Many  sprang  to  their  feet ;  a 
few  started  for  the  door,  and  all  were  talking.  The 
clergyman  sought  to  restore  order  in  vain.  Colonel 
Ebenezer  Sproat  drew  his  herculean  form  of  six 
feet-four  to  its  full  height  and  bellowed : 

"  Cut  it  short,  parson !  You'll  have  to  give  us  the 
rest  some  other  time!  There's  been  an  Indian 
scrimmage  somewhere ;  and  somebody  may  be  need- 
ing help.  Come  on,  men;  let's  see  what  it  all 
means !" 

Catching  up  their  arms,  the  men  crowded  through 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  143 

the  door  and  thundered  down  the  steps,  in  hot  pur- 
suit of  the  strange  messenger  and  Dr.  True.  The 
women  and  children,  with  pale  faces,  huddled  to- 
gether and  conversed  in  low,  awestruck  tones. 

"  Marie,"  Paul  cried,  "  you  remain  with  Louise 
at  her  home,  until  we  ascertain  the  cause  of  the 
alarm.  Come,  Stacey,  let's  overtake  the  man  and 
question  him.  Do  you  know  whence  he  hails?  " 

"  From  Belpre,"  John  replied,  as  he  followed  Paul 
out  of  the  room. 

"From  Belpre?  Then  the  attack  has  not  been 
made  near  here." 

"  No." 

Young  and  fleet  of  foot,  they  passed  those  who 
had  preceded  them  down  the  stairway,  and  soon 
overtook  the  doctor  and  his  companion. 

"  Have  the  Indians  attacked  some  one  ?  "  Paul  in- 
quired of  the  stranger. 

The  man  nodded  vigorously  and  quickened  his 
pace  toward  the  Ohio  shore.  Just  at  this  moment 
Colonel  Sproat  came  up,  purring  like  an  over-driven 
horse. 

"  Say !  "  he  shouted  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  "  Stop 
and  explain !  Has  there  been  a  brush  with  the  In- 
dians?" 

Dr.  True  answered  in  the  affirmative ;  but  the  mes- 
senger kept  a  dogged  silence. 

Incensed  at  what  he  considered  the  fellow's  surli- 
ness, Colonel  Sproat  leaped  forward  and,  catching 


144  /AT  THE  DAYS  OP  ST.  CLAIR 

the  man  by  the  arm,  lifted  him  from  his  feet  and 
shook  him  as  a  dog  shakes  a  rat. 

"  Come  —  out  with  it !  "  the  enraged  colonel  cried 
hoarsely. 

Released  from  the  giant's  grasp,  the  man  tenderly 
rubbed  his  injured  member  and  said  in  a  crestfallen 
way: 

"  The  Indians  attacked  a  pirogue  and  killed  one 
man  and  wounded  two  others." 

"Where?" 

"  Three  miles  above  Belpre." 

"When?" 

"  Early  this  morning." 

"  Who  were  the  men  ?  " 

"  Traders  from  down  the  river." 

"  Where  are  the  wounded  men  ?  " 

"  At  Belpre." 

"  And  you  came  for  the  doctor  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  What  became  of  the  Indians  ?  " 

"  They  were  in  a  large  canoe  when  they  attacked 
the  pirogue.  The  traders  killed  several  of  them; 
and  the  others  landed  upon  the  Ohio  shore,  and  are 
probably  hid  in  the  woods." 

"  How  many  were  there  ?  " 

"  Nine  or  ten." 

"What  tribe?" 

"  I  don't  know  to  a  certainty  —  probably  a  wan- 
dering band  of  Shawnees." 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  145 

"  No  doubt  —  no  doubt,"  the  colonel  said  musing- 
ly. "  Well,  that's  all  I  want  to  know  —  if  I  did  have 
to  shake  it  out  of  you.  Next  time,  young  man,  an- 
swer civil  questions ;  and  you  won't  get  such  rough 
treatment." 

Quite  a  crowd  had  collected  by  this  time.  The 
messenger  and  the  doctor  hurried  on  to  where  a  long 
canoe  lay,  in  which  were  seated  two  men.  The  doc- 
tor and  his  companion  stepped  in,  the  paddles  dip- 
ped, and  they  soon  disappeared  down  the  stream. 

After  watching  the  canoe  out  of  sight,  Colonel 
Sproat  said  to  the  group  that  surrounded  him: 
"  There's  a  warning  in  this  at  any  rate  —  a  warning 
to  all  of  us.  We  must  keep  an  eye  on  the  Delawares 
and  Wyandots  at  the  headwaters  of  the  Muskin- 
gum." 

"  Why,  this  attack  wasn't  made  by  them  1 "  ex- 
claimed Commodore  Whipple. 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that  —  "  Colonel  Sproat  be- 
gan ;  but  the  doughty  commodore  interrupted  him 
by  saying: 

"'  The  man  who  came  for  Dr.  True  said  they  were 
Shawnees." 

"  True ;  but  he  wasn't  certain.  I  believe  we  shall 
find  they  were  Delawares  or  Wyandots.  I  reason 
on  it  in  this  way :  If  they  were  Shawnees,  what  did 
they  mean  by  making  an  attack  above  Belpre? 
Surely  they  have  sense  enough  to  know  that  their 
retreat  down  the  river'll  be  cut  off  ?  And  their  home 

is  on  the  Scioto." 
10 


146  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  But  how  could  the  Delawares,  or  Wyandots 
come  down  the  Muskingum,  pass  this  place,  and 
gain  the  Ohio,  without  our  knowing  it?"  asked 
Winthrop  Sargent,  secretary  of  the  colony. 

"  By  silently  drifting  down  in  the  night,  proba- 
bly; but  my  idea  is  that  they  did  not  pass  here  at 
all." 

"  What  course  did  they  take,  if  they  didn't  come 
this  way  ?  "  asked  Whipple. 

"  They  traveled  overland." 

Peals  of  hearty  laughter  greeted  the  development 
of  the  colonel's  theory.  Gaining  control  of  his  feel- 
ings at  last,  the  commodore  gave  a  hitch  to  his  bag- 
gy trousers  and  said : 

"  Went  overland,  did  they,  colonel  ?  Queer  sort 
of  voyage,  I  must  say  —  voyaging  overland  in  a 
canoe,  without  chart  or  compass !  Shiver  my  bow- 
sprit, but  they  must  be  descendants  of  old  Noah ! 
Here's  an  old  barnacle  that's  plowed  the  seas  for 
years  —  and  ought  to  be  there  now  —  but  he  never 
heard  of  such  a  voyage  as  that !  " 

Colonel  Sproat's  jolly  face  was  wreathed  in 
smiles ;  and  he  did  not  resent  the  commodore's  ban- 
tering. He  replied  simply : 

"  They  didn't  have  a  canoe." 

"  But  they  did! "  Winthrop  Sargent  insisted. 

"  After  they  reached  the  Ohio  —  yes,"  admitted 
Colonel  Sproat. 

"  Oh !     Well,  where  did  they  get  it  ?  " 

"  Stole  it  from  settlers  in  Belpre,  or  vicinity." 


7.V  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  147 

"  You  are  simply  surmising  all  this,  aren't  you, 
colonel  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

Again  the  crowd  laughed  at  the  big,  good-natured 
colonel ;  but  their  merriment  was  cut  short  by  a  few 
words  from  Colonel  Stacey,  father  of  Paul  Gray- 
don's  friend.  The  old  gentleman  quietly  remarked : 

"  I'm  firm  in  the  belief  that  Sproat's  right.  As 
many  of  you  know,  I  was  a  prisoner  among  the  In- 
dians at  one  time ;  and  I  know  much  of  their  habits 
of  warfare.  It  isn't  at  all  improbable  that  the  Del- 
a wares  have  done  just  what  Sproat  thinks." 

This  closed  the  discussion.  The  excitement  hav- 
ing subsided,  the  people  wended  their  way  home- 
ward to  partake  of  their  meager  dinners. 

Marie  spent  the  afternoon  with  Louise  St.  Clair, 
at  the  latter's  home.  An  hour  or  two  before  sunset, 
the  four  young  people  left  the  fort  and  sauntered 
down  to  the  Muskingum. 

As  they  were  leaving,  Governor  St.  Clair  followed 
them  to  the  door  and  admonished  them  to  be  cau- 
tious and  not  to  go  beyond  the  outskirts  of  the  vil- 
lage. His  last  words  were: 

"  Young  men,  I  see  that  you  are  unarmed.  Per- 
haps it  is  as  well ;  but  I'm  apprehensive  that  those 
marauding  savages  haven't  left  the  vicinity  of  the 
settlement.  They're  bent  on  murder  and  plunder; 
and  they'll  not  abandon  the  field  until  they  have 
sated  their  appetites.  Go ;  but  be  wary.  I  shall  not 
rest  easy  until  I  know  of  your  safe  return." 


i4«  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

Louise  tenderly  kissed  him  and  called  him  a  dear, 
foolish  old  father.  Stacey  and  Graydon  assured 
him  they  would  protect  their  companions,  and,  ere 
he  could  frame  a  reply,  the  four  were  off  for  the 
river.  They  embarked  in  Stacey's  cedar  dugout  — 
the  young  women  at  the  paddles  —  and  glided  swift- 
ly out  of  the  mouth  of  the  Moose  Eye,  into  the  Ohio. 
They  permitted  the  canoe  to  float  with  the  current, 
and  with  joke  and  song  whiled  away  the  care-free 
moments. 

Reaching  a  point  two  miles  below  the  settlement, 
they  decided  they  had  gone  far  enough  and  made 
preparations  to  return.  As  Marie  and  Louise  skill- 
fully and  swiftly  turned  the  prow  of  the  boat  up- 
stream, Paul  caught  sight  of  a  large,  dark  object 
moving  out  from  the  overhanging  bushes  upon  the 
Ohio  shore.  One  glance  told  him  it  was  a  canoe ; 
and  Paul  Graydon's  heart  stood  almost  still,  as  he 
made  the  horrifying  discovery  that  it  was  rilled  with 
Indians ! 

The  sun  was  low  upon  the  western  horizon ;  and 
the  long,  narrow  canoe  was  but  dimly  visible  as  it 
silently  shot  through  the  shadows  cast  by  the  trees 
along  the  shore.  At  the  time  of  Paul's  discovery, 
it  was  fully  one  hundred  yards  to  the  rear  of  the 
boat  occupied  by  him  and  his  friends.  There  were 
eight  or  ten  Indians  in  it;  and  four  half-naked, 
brawny  savages  were  wielding  the  paddles.  It  was 
at  once  evident  to  Paul  that  the  red  men  were  hug- 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  149 

ging  the  shore,  for  the  purpose  of  remaining  unseen 
until  they  were  close  upon  the  party  of  whites. 

Stacey  was  seated  in  the  bow ;  Graydon  occupied 
the  stern,  and  the  two  girls  had  places  in  the  middle ; 
and  all  sat  facing  the  prow.  Without  a  word,  Paul 
leaned  forward  and  took  the  paddle  from  Marie's 
hand.  Then  he  said,  in  a  low  tone : 

"  John,  take  the  other  paddle.  We're  in  great 
danger  —  there's  no  time  for  explanation.  Girls, 
trim  the  canoe  and  sit  perfectly  quiet.  Now  —  to- 
gether !  " 

Propelled  by  the  vigorous  strokes  of  the  young 
athletes,  the  light  boat  fairly  flew.  At  each  dip  of 
the  paddles,  it  seemed  to  lift  itself  and  to  skim  the 
surface  of  the  river,  like  a  bird.  Stacey  implicitly 
obeyed  his  friend,  looking  neither  to  the  right  nor  to 
the  left  as  he  bent  to  the  arduous  work.  Louise  and 
Marie  placed  their  white  hands  upon  the  sides  of 
the  vibrating  canoe,  to  steady  its  dangerous  sway- 
ing, kept  their  eyes  fixed  upon  the  distant  hilltops, 
bathed  in  rays  of  the  setting  sun,  and  uttered  no 
word.  Paul,  his  hat  thrown  off,  his  long  brown 
locks  tossing  in  the  wind  and  his  dark  face  set  and 
stern,  anxiously  glanced  over  his  shoulder  from 
time  to  time  and  noted,  with  growing  fear,  that 
their  pursuers  were  steadily  gaining. 

The  Indians  drew  nearer  and  nearer.  Only  a 
few  yards  separated  them  when  the  savages  emitted 
yells  of  triumph  and  discharged  their  firearms  at  the 


ISO  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

helpless  fugitives.  The  rocking  of  the  canoes  pre- 
vented correct  aim,  however,  and  the  whizzing  balls 
did  no  harm,  spattering  the  water  and  burying 
themselves  in  the  side  of  the  dugout. 

"  Down,  girls  —  down !  "  Paul  panted  breathless- 
ly. "  Together,  John  —  steady !  " 

They  were  fully  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  set- 
tlement —  and  the  Indians  were  pressing  them  hard. 
One  gigantic  brave  stood  in  the  bow  of  the  canoe, 
directing  the  red  paddlers  and  encouraging  them 
to  greater  efforts.  At  the  critical  moment  —  when  it 
appeared  to  Paul  that  there  was  no  salvation  for 
them  —  succor  came  from  an  unexpected  quarter. 

The  sharp  crack  of  a  rifle  rang  out  upon  the  even- 
ing air,  and  a  puff  of  white  smoke  issued  from  the 
willows  upon  the  Ohio  shore.  The  big  brave  in  the 
bow  of  the  pursuing  canoe  threw  up  his  hands  and 
fell  backward  among  his  warriors,  creating  conster- 
nation and  confusion  that  threatened  to  swamp  the 
overladen  craft.  The  paddlers  dropped  their  pad- 
dles and  threw  overboard  the  body  of  their  fallen 
chieftain,  righted  the  course  of  their  drifting  boat, 
and  again  took  up  the  pursuit.  But  stimulated  by 
the  unexpected  aid,  Paul  and  his  companions  were 
rapidly  drawing  away  from  them. 

Again  the  rifle  of  the  concealed  marksman  spoke, 
and,  in  answer,  another  Indian  sank  into  the  bottom 
of  the  canoe.  Discouraged  by  the  death  of  their  two 
companions,  and  realizing  that  they  could  not  over- 
take the  fugitives  —  ere  the  latter  drew  too  near 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  151 

-the  settlement  —  the  red  men  turned  about  and  sul- 
lenly paddled  down  the  stream.  At  that  moment  a 
third  canoe  —  containing  but  a  single  occupant  — 
dashed  from  the  sheltering  bank  and  sped  swiftly 
toward  the  middle  of  the  stream.  Reaching  a  point 
directly  astern  of  the  dugout  containing  the  whites, 
the  stranger  sprang  to  his  feet  and  uttering  the 
blood-curdling  warwhoop  of  the  Shawnees,  fired  a 
parting  shot  at  the  retreating  Indians.  Then  he 
dropped  his  rifle,  caught  up  his  paddle,  and  quickly 
overtook  the  party  he  had  succored.  The  lone  war- 
rior was  Silverheels ! 

The  reverberating  reports  of  the  guns  had  reached 
the  ears  of  another  boatload  of  young  people  farther 
up  the  river.  They  had  hastened  toward  the  village, 
shouting  the  alarm  as  they  went.  Now  the  sullen 
boom  of  the  cannon  at  Fort  Harmer  floated  out  upon 
the  still  evening  air,  and  was  answered  by  the 
hoarse  barks  of  those  at  Campus  Martius.  The 
excited  people  caught  up  their  weapons  and  hurried 
to  the  water  front.  Some  of  them  sprang  into  boats 
and  set  off  in  the  direction  of  the  firing,  while  oth- 
ers remained  to  defend  their  homes,  fearing  an  im- 
mediate attack. 

As  the  Shawnee  came  up  with  the  almost  exhaust- 
ed fugitives,  Paul  exclaimed : 

"  Silverheels !  " 

"  Ugh  !  "  was  the  guttural  reply.  "  Are  the  white 
pigeons  unhurt  ?  " 


152  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  They  are  unhurt  —  but  very  badly  frightened/' 
was  the  reply. 

"  How  can  we  ever  repay  you  ?  "  Marie  exclaimed 
as  she  looked  up  and  shuddered. 

"  The  Shawnee  wants  nothing,"  Silverheels  an- 
swered proudly.  "  He  knows  how  to  revenge  him- 
self upon  his  enemies  !  " 

"  Accept  our  sincere  thanks,  at  least,"  cried  Sta- 
cey,  speaking  for  the  first  time  since  the  pursuit  be- 
gan. Louise  sat  and  shivered,  but  said  nothing. 

Silverheels  grunted  a  reply  and,  with  two  strokes 
of  his  paddle,  shot  his  canoe  ahead  of  them  and  led 
the  way  toward  the  settlement. 


CHAPTER  XV 

As  the  two  canoes  drew  near  the  village  a  flotilla 
came  to  meet  them.  The  dip  of  many  oars, 
the  voices  of  those  in  the  boats,  the  screams  and 
shouts  of  those  on  shore,  and  the  vociferous  bark- 
ing of  a  dozen  curs  combined  to  turn  the  quiet  of  the 
Sabbath  evening  into  a  pandemonium.  Paul  and 
his  party  were  deluged  with  questions,  to  all  of 
which  they  returned  brief  answers,  as  they  pushed 
on  toward  the  landing.  Silverheels  attempted  to 
escape  into  the  mouth  of  the  Muskingum ;  but  he 
was  headed  off  by  the  half  delirious  colonists  and 
compelled  to  land  with  the  others. 

As  the  canoe  containing  Marie  and  Louise  touch- 
ed the  beach,  two  stalwart  settlers  waded  into  the 
water  and  lifted  them  ashore.  Among  those  as- 
sembled at  the  water's  edge  were  Isaac  Meeks  and 
Nancy,  and  Governor  St.  Clair  and  his  younger 
daughter.  The  governor,  his  features  twitching 
and  the  tears  in  his  eyes,  placed  an  arm  around  each 
of  his  children  and  murmured  fervently : 
"  Thank  God,  Louise,  you  are  unharmed !  " 
Isaac  gave  Marie  a  bear-like  hug  and  capered 
about  in  a  frenzy  of  joy;  while  Nancy  caught  her 
niece  to  her  heart  and  sobbed  aloud.  The  Staceys 

(i53) 


154  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

were  there  to  congratulate  John  on  his  escape,  and 
Gumbo  was  at  hand  to  receive  Paul.  The  negro  came 
forward,  his  black  face  shining  with  delight,  and, 
clutching  the  young  Englishman  by  both  hands, 
swayed  to  and  fro,  laughing  and  crying  by  turns. 

"  I'se  pow'ful  glad  to  see  you  —  I  is,  Marse 
Paul !  "  he  blubbered.  "  Dem  In j  ins  didn't  done  kill 
you,  did  dey  ?  " 

Paul  replied  in  the  negative. 

"  Is  you  sure,  Marse  Paul  ?  " 

Graydon  answered  affirmatively. 

"  An'  dey  didn't  sculp  you  ?  " 

"  No;  I'm  uninjured,  Gumbo.'* 

"  Well,  isn't  dis  nigger  right  down  glad !  Kase 
w'at  in  de  worT,  Marse  Paul,  'Id  you  do  wid  de 
whole  top  ob  y'r  head  cl'ar  off,  an'  de  piece  manipu- 
latin'  roun'  de  woods  in  the  pocket  ob  a  red  debil  ?  " 

This  question  was  beyond  the  scope  of  Paul's  in- 
tellect ;  and  he  wisely  declined  to  answer.  He  pat- 
ted the  darky  upon  the  back,  and  assured  him  that 
the  Indians  had  failed  to  inflict  a  wound  upon  any 
of  the  party.  Then,  turning  to  Governor  St.  Clair, 
he  said : 

"I'm  chagrined  that  this  adventure  should  have 
befallen  us,  governor,  although  I'm  sincerely 
thankful  that  it  has  ended  so  happily.  Bestow  all 
blame  upon  me  —  I  should  have  heeded  your  words 
of  caution." 

"  No !  "  Louise  cried,  catching  her  father's  hand 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  155 

and  looking  at  him  appealingly.  "  He's  not  at  all  to 
blame.  I  —  " 

Governor  St.  Clair  playfully  placed  his  hand  over 
her  mouth  and  stopped  her. 

"  I  have  neither  blame  nor  praise  to  bestow,"  he 
said.  "  The  less  said  the  sooner  mended.  Tell  me 
all  about  the  attack." 

Paul  did  as  the  governor  requested,  while  the  ex- 
cited and  angry  settlers  crowded  around  him  and 
listened  with  rapt  attention.  When  he  told  of  the 
Indians  firing  upon  him  and  his  unarmed  and  help- 
less companions,  the  indignant  colonists  broke  into 
hoarse  growls  of  rage  and  looked  about  for  some 
object  upon  which  to  work  their  vengeance.  Silver- 
heels  stood  apart  from  the  group,  his  sinewy  arms 
folded  upon  his  chest  and  an  impassive  look  upon 
his  bronze  face. 

"  There's  one  of  the  greasy,  ugly  varmints  now !  " 
shouted  an  enraged  backwoodsman.  "  May  be  he 
didn't  have  anything  to  do  with  this  affair,  but  he 
has  with  some  other.  Let's  give  him  a  lesson !  " 

"That's  it!  — Kill  him!  — throw  him  into  the 
river !  "  —  were  the  answering  cries.  And  ere  a  hand 
could  be  lifted  to  stay  their  mad  impulses,  they 
threw  themselves  upon  the  Indian  and  attempted  to 
bear  him  to  the  ground.  The  Shawnee  shook  them 
off  as  a  dog  shakes  water  from  his  shaggy  coat ;  and, 
springing  backward,  clubbed  his  empty  rifle  and 
swung  it  around  his  head.  Marie  and  Louise 
screamed  in  affright,  and  with  the  other  women 


156  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

beat  a  hasty  retreat.  The  baffled  whites  made  a  sec- 
ond attempt  to  close,  and  would  have  succeeded  had 
not  John  and  Paul  sprung  between  them  and  their 
victim. 

"  Stop,  men !  "  Stacey  thundered.  "  Would  you 
harm  him  who  saved  us  from  a  horrible  death  ?  " 

The  infuriated  settlers  hesitated  but  for  a  moment. 
Again  they  surged  forward,  their  eyes  glaring,  their 
chests  heaving. 

"  Out  of  the  way,  boys,  'r  take  the  consequences 
along  with  the  redskin !  "  howled  the  man  who  had 
incited  the  atttack. 

Paul  and  his  friend  maintained  their  ground.  The 
former  looked  into  the  faces  of  the  angry  men,  and 
was  surprised  to  see  Isaac  Meeks  among  the  lead- 
ers !  Leaping  forward,  Graydon  thrust  his  fist  into 
the  hunter's  face,  and  hissed: 

"  Listen,  Isaac !  Twice  has  this  Indian  been  in- 
strumental in  saving  my  life ;  and  I'll  not  desert  him 
in  his  hour  of  need.  The  man  who  harms  a  hair  of 
the  Shawnee's  head  does  so  at  the  peril  of  his  own 
life ! " 

Isaac  started  back,  carrying  the  others  with  him. 
Paul  was  quick  to  take  advantage  of  the  respite,  and 
continued  rapidly : 

"  Wait  until  we  are  through  telling  you  of  our 
adventure,  and  you'll  be  heartily  ashamed  of  your- 
selves. As  Stacey  has  told  you,  this  despised  red 
man,  unaided  and  alone,  saved  us  from  death." 

He  had  gained  their  attention  for  the  moment; 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  157 

and  he  went  on  hurriedly,  telling  them  of  the  attack 
and  of  Silverheels'  successful  defense.  The  sun 
had  sunk  behind  the  western  hills,  and  the  shadows 
of  night  were  invading  the  valley.  As  Paul  con- 
tinued he  could  scarcely  discern  the  faces  of  the 
men  before  him ;  but  he  knew,  from  their  attitude 
and  their  exclamations,  that  he  had  won  them  and 
had  nothing  further  to  fear. 

As  he  finished  several  came  forward,  shook 
hands  with  him  and  John,  and  apologized.  Among 
these  was  Isaac.  He  sidled  up  to  Graydon  and  in  a 
shamefaced  way  began : 

"  I  alluz  was  a  fool,  Mr.  Paul  —  " 

"  An'  you  alluz  «'»'//  be !  "  Nancy  commented,  el- 
bowing her  way  forward. 

Without  heeding  the  interruption,  Isaac  contin- 
ued: 

"  Jest  as  you  said  I'd  be,  Mr.  Paul,  I'm  teetotally 
ashamed  o'  myself ;  an'  I'm  a-goin'  to  ask  that  red- 
skin's pardon,  if  it's  the  last  act  o'  my  life!  " 

A  cheer  went  up  from  the  crowd  at  these  words. 
Silverheels  stood  like  a  statue  of  bronze,  his  face  as 
immobile  as  before  the  disturbance.  In  answer  to 
the  humble  apologies  from  those  who  a  few  mo- 
ments before  were  thirsting  for  his  blood,  he  said : 

"  The  palefaces  are  like  she  wolves  —  they  would 
bite  the  hand  of  him  who  has  saved  their  whelps 
from  the  forest  fire.  I  will  not  thrust  my  hand  into 
the  wolf's  mouth !  " 

And  again  he  folded  his  arms  upon  his  chest,  thus 


158  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

declining  to  grasp  the  hands  extended  toward  him. 

At  this  moment  Governor  St.  Clair  came  forward, 
leading  Louise  and  Marie. 

"  At  least,  my  red  friend,"  were  his  words,  "  you 
will  permit  these  young  ladies  to  thank  you  for  hav- 
ing saved  their  lives.  It  was  a  great  and  noble  act ; 
and  I  join  them  in  their  expression  of  gratitude." 

The  Shawnee  slowly  unfolded  his  arms  and  bent 
his  head.  Marie  and  Louise  wrung  his  hand  and  in 
broken  accents  thanked  him  for  what  he  had  done. 
Paul  and  John,  also,  rested  their  palms  in  his  and 
assured  him  of  their  everlasting  friendship.  The 
Indian's  hard  face  softened  perceptibly  as  he  held 
Paul's  hand  and  gazed  into  the  latter 's  eyes,  as 
though  striving  to  read  his  inmost  soul.  At  last  he 
said  in  low,  guttural  accents : 

"  In  the  veins  of  Silverheels  courses  the  blood  of 
the  palefaces  and  the  red  men ;  yet  is  he  an  Indian  — 
an  outcast  —  a  Shawnee !  He  does  not  complain  — 
the  life  he  leads  is  to  his  liking.  A  Shawnee  never 
forgives  an  injury  nor  does  he  forget  a  kindness. 
My  white  friend,  Silverheels  shall  find  a  way  to  re- 
pay the  debt  he  owes.  Where  the  bright  waters  of 
the  Bald  Eagle  mingle  with  the  bright  waters  of  the 
Moose  Eye,  stands  the  lodge  of  Silverheels.  The 
paddle  must  dip  many  times  ere  he  reaches  it.  I  go." 

He  turned  to  depart,  but  Colonel  Sproat  detained 
him  by  asking : 

"  Won't  you  tell  us  to  what  tribe  the  Indians  be- 
long who  made  the  attack  ?  " 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  159 

"  Ugh !     Delawares." 

"  Whence  came  they  ?  " 

"  From  their  village  upon  the  Tuscarawas." 

"  Did  they  come  down  the  Muskingum,  in  their 
canoe  ?  " 

The  Shawnee  shook  his  head  and  replied: 

"  They  are  squaws !  They  feared  to  pass  the 
lodges  of  the  palefaces." 

"  They  traveled  overland,  then?" 

"  Ugh ! " 

"  How  came  it  that  you  were  at  hand  when  they 
made  their  attack  upon  our  people  ?  " 

Silverheels  drew  himself  up  until  he  almost  equal- 
ed Sproat's  magnificent  height,  and  answered,  dis- 
dainfully : 

"  Big  Buckeye,  the  bald  eagle  comes  and  goes  at 
his  pleasure,  and  gives  no  man  a  reason  for  his  com- 
ing or  his  going.  The  Shawnee  is  as  proud  and  free 
as  the  fierce  bird  of  prey !  I  go." 

He  sprang  into  his  canoe  —  thus  lending  an  im- 
petus to  the  light  vessel  that  carried  it  many  feet 
from  the  shore  —  and  entering  the  mouth  of  the 
tributary  stream,  disappeared  in  the  darkness. 

When  Louise  St.  Clair  awoke  the  next  morning, 
she  was  aware  of  something  that  she  did  not  know 
before.  Her  heart  was  revealed  to  her,  and  she 
knew  she  loved  Paul  Gray  don.  Those  awful  mo- 
ments in  the  canoe  had  enabled  her  to  see  clearly, 
for  at  the  time  her  fondest  thoughts  had  been  of 
him. 


i6o  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

As  she  lay  blinking  at  the  rising  sun  that  peeped 
in  through  her  curtained  window,  she  thought  of  her 
father's  words  on  the  day  after  Paul's  arrival :  "  An- 
other has  won  him !  "  A  wave  of  bitter  despair 
swept  over  the  girl's  soul,  and  burying  her  fair  face 
in  the  pillows,  she  moaned : 

"  Oh !  Have  I  learned  to  love  him  but  to  lose 
him  ?  Marie  loves  him  —  yes ;  but  not  as  7  love  him 
—  no,  no!  And  does  he  love  her?  No  —  I'll  not 
have  it  so!  He  shall  be  mine!  It  isn't  just  that 
Marie  should  have  him  —  he  isn't  of  her  station  in 
life.  I  ought  to  have  him  —  and  I  will  have  him ! 
I've  never  tried  to  win  him ;  but  I'll  do  so  now." 

She  arose  and  dressed  with  greater  care  than  she 
had  bestowed  upon  her  toilet  for  many  months.  She 
was  dressing  for  Paul  —  she  must  please  him  —  she 
must  fascinate  him.  The  thought  came  to  her  that 
if  she  attempted  to  win  his  love  she  should  be  false 
to  Marie  —  her  sincere  friend ;  and  her  face  flushed. 

"  I  can't  help  it  if  she  suffers,"  she  argued  with 
her  better  self.  "  Shan't  I  suffer  if  he  remains  true 
to  her  ?  One  of  us  must  suffer ;  and  must  /  be  the 
one  ?  No !  He  shall  be  mine.  Love  is  cruel,  merci- 
less!" 

It  was  in  John  Stacey's  rather  phlegmatic  disposi- 
tion, to  accept  what  seemed  to  be  inevitable,  without 
a  word  of  complaint  or  a  thought  of  rebellion.  He 
was  content  to  go  on  worshiping  at  a  distance  the 
object  of  his  adoration,  without  once  attempting  to 
enkindle  an  answering  flame  upon  the  altar.  But  it 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  161 

was  not  so  with  Louise  St.  Clair.  Her  passionate 
nature  burst  into  fire  at  the  magic  touch  of  love  —  a 
fire  that  burned  away  the  barrier  of  maidenly  re- 
serve and  threatened  the  wellsprings  of  womanly 
pride  and  honor.  Above  all,  a  fire  that  in  the  end 
would  strew  the  cold,  gray  ashes  of  regret  and 
shame  upon  her  head ! 

That  afternoon,  in  conversation  with  Marie,  she 
asked : 

"  Marie,  do  you  love  Paul  very  dearly  ?  " 

The  French  girl  looked  at  her  friend  in  mild  sur- 
prise, and  answered  simply  and  earnestly: 

"  A  thousand  times  better  than  all  else  in  the 
world." 

Louise  smilingly  continued: 

"  And  you  fancy  he  loves  you  ?  " 

Marie  lifted  her  arched  brows,  as  she  replied : 

"  Fancy !    1  know  he  loves  me," 

"  As  you  love  him?  " 

"  Yes." 

Louise  laughed  a  forced  little  laugh  and  went  on : 

"  And  you  sincerely  believe,  I  suppose,  that  he's 
the  soul  of  honor  and  fidelity,  and  that  he  has  no  eyes 
for  any  woman  but  your  own  sweet  self  ?  " 

A  half  sneer  curled  her  lip  as  she  said  it. 

Marie  did  not  hesitate,  but  replied  sturdily : 

"Yes;  I  believe  all  that." 

Louise  cried,  laughingly : 

"  Don't  you  know,  you  unsophisticated  darling, 
that  there  is  no  man  whose  armor  is  invulnerable  — 
11 


16.2  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

no  man  who  is  unsusceptible  to  the  arts  and  wiles  of 
beautiful  women  other  than  his  lady  love?" 

"  My  Paul  is  an  exception,"  Marie  said  quietly. 

"  You  precious  baby !  May  I  prove  to  you  that 
'your  Paul,'  as  you  blindly  call  him,  is  no  excep- 
tion?" 

"  You  cannot  prove  anything  of  the  kind  Louise." 

"  Well,  have  I  your  permission  —  may  I  make  the 
attempt?" 

"  I  care  not  —  make  the  attempt." 

"  In  any  way  that  pleases  me  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  you'll  not  blame  me  if  the  result  be  con- 
trary to  what  you  expect  ?  " 

"  I'll  not  blame  you." 

"  Very  well,"  Louise  cried  gayly  as  she  capered 
about  the  floor,  "  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  prov- 
ing to  you  that  Mr.  Paul  Graydon  doesn't  know  his 
own  heart,  and  that  you  don't  know  him.  Remem- 
ber, you  are  to  offer  no  objection  to  anything  I  do." 

"  I  shall  offer  no  objections." 

"  Even  though  you  see  him  drifting  from  the  safe 
anchorage  of  your  love  —  " 

"  None  whatever ! " 

At  this  point  in 'the  conversation  other  members 
of  the  St.  Clair  family  came  in ;  and  the  subject  was 
dropped.  Marie  had  taken  all  that  her  friend  had 
said  as  good-natured  banter,  and  rather  liked  the 
prospect  of  putting  her  lover  to  the  test.  She  de- 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  163 

sired  to  show  Louise  that  Paul  was  fidelity  itself  — 
and  she  desired  to  enjoy  her  friend's  discomfiture. 

During  the  next  few  weeks  Louise  devoted  herself 
assiduously  to  the  task  she  had  in  hand.  She  dress- 
ed to  please  Paul,  smiled  to  encourage  him,  and  gave 
him  to  understand  that  his  presence  was  more  than 
welcome.  Not  a  day  passed  that  she  did  not  meet 
him,  on  one  pretext  or  another.  Paul  was  not 
wholly  unconscious  of  her  charms,  and  her  marked 
attentions  flattered  him.  He  was  frequently  alone 
with  her  and  enjoyed  her  keen  intellect,  her  perfect 
manners  and  sparkling  talk ;  and  he  neglected  Ma- 
rie to  such  an  extent  that  she  was  compelled  to  spend 
many  hours  alone.  However,  his  heart  remained 
in  the  keeping  of  his  first  love ;  and  the  trustful  little 
French  girl  read  him  aright,  and  patiently  bided  her 
time. 

John  Stacey  saw  the  drift  of  affairs ;  and  his  hon- 
est soul  was  indignant  at  what  he  considered  Paul's 
perfidy.  He  resolved  to  take  his  friend  to  task. 

"  Paul,"  he  said  bluntly,  one  day  when  the  two 
were  alone  in  the  woods,  "  I'm  not  at  all  pleased  with 
your  recent  treatment  of  Marie." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  Gray  don  asked,  in  ill- 
feigned  surprise. 

"  Your  face  tells  me  that  you  well  know  what  I 
mean.  You're  devoting  too  much  time  and  atten- 
tion to  Louise.  Nothing  but  evil  can  come  of  it." 

"  Surely  you  don't  believe,  John,  that  I  care  any- 


164  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

thing  for  Miss  St.  Clair  1    We  are  the  best  of  friends 

—  that's  all." 

"  The  old  plea !  "  Stacey  replied,  dubiously  shak- 
ing his  head.  "  She  cares  entirely  too  much  for  you, 
at  any  rate.  You're  treading  on  dangerous  ground. 
You're  carelessly  —  I  won't  say  willfully  —  leading 
her  on.  One  heart  must  break  in  the  end  —  hers  or 
Marie's  —  and  whosever  it  proves  to  be,  you'll  not 
be  blameless." 

"  Do  you  think  Louise  loves  me  ?  "  Paul  asked 
with  some  concern. 

"I'm  sure  she  does,  Paul ;  and  you're  going  to 
break  her  heart.  Besides,  you  cannot  expect  Marie 
to  love  and  trust  you  always,  if  you  persist.  No 
woman  can  endure  such  treatment  long." 

Paul  Graydon  was  shocked  and  grieved  at  his 
friend's  words.  "  I've  been  blind  1 "  he  groaned  to 
himself.  "  A  fool !  A  knave !  I  see  and  under- 
stand all  now  —  Louise's  marked  preference  for  me 

—  everything!     What  must  Marie  think  of  me? 
Bah !    I  despise  myself !  " 

He  was  silent  so  long  that  Stacey  knew  the  leaven 
of  his  words  was  working.  Suddenly  Paul  grasped 
his  friend's  hand  and  cried : 

"John  Stacey,  I  thank  you  from  the  bottom  of 
my  heart !  How  long  I  should  have  gone  on  playing 
the  fool  —  knave  —  had  you  not  come  to  me  in  your 
frank,  brotherly  way,  I  don't  know.  I  enjoyed 
Louise's  company ;  and  I  was  amusing  myself,  with 
no  thought  of  the  consequences.  Believe  me,  John, 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  165 

when  I  say  that  it  was  thoughtlessness  on  my  part, 
and  not  willful  perversity ;  and  believe  me,  too,  when 
I  promise  that  you  shall  have  no  occasion  to  chide 
me  again." 

Paul  was  religiously  loyal  to  his  promise.  He 
purposely  avoided  meeting  Louise,  and  conscien- 
tiously devoted  himself  to  Marie;  and,  in  conse- 
quence, did  not  see  the  former  for  several  days  after 
his  conversation  with  Stacey.  One  evening,  how- 
ever, as  he  was  leaving  Campus  Martius,  he  met 
Louise  face  to  face.  She  was  dressed  in  her  green 
riding  habit,  with  a  jaunty  velvet  cap  of  the  same 
color  surmounting  her  dark  hair.  Her  face  wore 
an  expression  of  silent  suffering.  Paul  thought 
he  had  never  seen  her  look  so  beautiful.  He  greeted 
her  kindly  and  essayed  to  pass ;  but  she  stopped  him 
with: 

"  Why  are  you  so  cold  and  formal,  Paul  ?  "  —  And 
her  ripe  lips  were  trembling  like  those  of  a  grieved 
child. 

Paul  Graydon  saw  the  work  that  he  had  helped 
to  do.  He  paused  and  answered  gently: 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  appear  rude,  Louise ;  but  I'm 
hastening  to  fulfill  an  engagement." 

"  I  haven't  seen  you  for  a  week.  Can't  you  spare 
me  a  few  moments  ?  " 

"  Willingly."  —  And  he  entered  the  blockhouse 
with  her. 

"Where  have  you  been  all  these  dreary  days?" 
she  asked. 


166  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

He  felt  that  she  was  aiming  to  let  him  know  she 
had  missed  him  grievously ;  and  he  .replied  briefly : 

"  Here  and  there  about  the  settlement." 

"  Why  have  you  avoided  me,  Paul  ?  " 

"  For  the  reason  that  I  thought  it  necessary." 

"  Necessary !  " 

"  Yes ;  Louise,  I  owe  you  an  explanation.  I  am 
betrothed  to  Marie  —  I  love  her  —  and  intend  to 
marry  her  as  soon  as  circumstances  will  permit. 
For  me  to  devote  so  much  time  and  attention  to  you 
is  putting  both  you  and  her  in  an  undesirable  posi- 
tion. You  and  Marie  are  innocent;  I,  alone,  am 
guilty.  But  the  usages  of  society  are  such  that;  in 
the  end,  you  must  suffer  most  of  all.  Inadvertently 
I've  done  you  a  great  injury.  I  humbly  beg  your 
pardon  and  ask  your  forgiveness.  Do  you  not  see 
that  I'm  right  in  what  I've  been  saying?  " 

"  Y-e-s,  I  —  I  —  see,"  she  replied,  slowly  and 
mechanically.  In  the  dusky  light  of  the  room,  her 
face  looked  wan.  He  resumed: 

"  Of  course  we  shall  remain  the  best  of  friends,  # 
Louise  —  " 

"  Of  course,"  she  interrupted,  in  the  same  im- 
passive tone. 

"  Well,  I  must  be  going.  Tell  me  that  you  fully 
and  freely  forgive  me  for  my  thoughtless  con- 
duct." 

"I  —  fully  —  and  —  freely  —  forgive  —  you," 
she  repeated  mechanically. 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  167 

He  went  out  and  left  her  to  her  own  thoughts. 
For  more  than  an  hour  she  sat  like  one  in  a 
trance.  When  she  arose  the  flame  of  her  passionate 
love  had  gone  out ;  and  naught  but  blackness  and 
ashes  remained ! 


CHAPTER  XVI 

GAME  was  so  scarce  in  the  woods  adjacent  to  the 
settlement  that  the  most  skillful  hunters  re- 
turned empty-handed.  In  dire  extremity  the  people 
subsisted  on  corn-bread,  early  vegetables  and 
"  greens."  This  diet  became  almost  unbearable ; 
and  the  hunters  pushed  farther  and  farther  into  the 
forest  in  quest  of  meat.  After  several  unsuccessful 
expeditions,  Graydon  and  Stacey  resolved  to  pro- 
cure the  much-needed  article  of  food,  at  all  hazard. 
Their  plan  was  to  row  far  up  the  Muskingum,  hunt 
all  day,  and  return  to  the  village  after  nightfall. 
They  talked  it  over  and  concluded  to  ask  Isaac 
Meeks's  opinion  of  the  project. 

"  You  can't  more'n  fail,  anyhow,"  was  the  hunter's 
reply ;  "  an'  I'll  go  with  you.  Course  ther's  some 
risk  right  now,  in  goin'  far  from  the  settlements,  but 
I  guess  we're  able  to  take  care  of  ourselves.  Ther's 
one  advantage  in  our  goin?  up  the  Muskingum  — 
we  can  take  a  good  look  at  the  country  up  there,  an' 
if  things  shape  theirselves  as  I  think  they're  a- 
goin'  to,  we'll  be  wantin'  to  enter  lands  up  there 
'fore  the  season's  over." 

They  started  the  next  morning  at  three  o'clock,  to 
avoid  the  disagreeable  task  of  rowing  in  the  July 
(168) 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  169 

heat.  As  they  proceeded  along  the  winding  stream, 
the  first  faint  streaks  of  dawn  began  to  show,  and 
the  sylvan  solitude  echoed  with  the  music  of  hun- 
dreds of  winged  songsters.  Long  reaches  of 
glassy  water  —  black-green  in  the  dusk  of  dawn,  but 
changing  to  silver  and  purple,  as  the  sun's  rays 
glinted  its  surface  —  glided  under  the  prow  of  their 
boat  and  disappeared  in  the  shadows  formed  by  the 
overarching  branches  of  sycamore,  beech  and  elm. 
The  sun  climbed  higher  and  the  day  grew  brighter 
and  warmer.  At  eight  o'clock  they  passed  the  little 
settlement  of  Waterford;  and  two  hours  later  they 
landed  on  a  wooded  bank  and  secreted  their  boat  in 
the  reeds  and  willows  that  skirted  the  stream. 

Mile  after  mile  they  tramped  through  the  oppres- 
sive heat  of  the  dense  forest,  encountering  no  large 
animals  and  killing  a  few  squirrels  only.  As  even- 
ing approached  they  gave  up  in  disgust  and  silently 
returned  to  their  boat.  Seating  themselves  upon 
the  green  and  shady  bank,  they  talked  over  their 
failure. 

"  Ther'  aint  nothin'  to  do  but  to  go  back,  I  'spose," 
Isaac  remarked  in  a  musing  tone :  "  an'  ther'  aint  a 
very  bright  outlook  fer  the  future.  If  you  can't 
find  game  here,  where  're  you  goin'  to  find  it?  I'm 
downright  tired  o'  livin'  without  meat,  an'  I  can't 
stand  it  much  longer;  my  stomach's  cleavin'  to  my 
backbone  this  very  minute,  jest  from  thinkin'  o' 
what's  to  come.  Confound  the  In j ins!  If  it  hadn't 
been  fer  them  killin'  and  drivin'  off  the  game,  we'd 


170  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

be  livin'  on  the  fat  o'  the  land  today.  I  wish  the 
whole  race  of  'em  was  wiped  out  —  " 

"  Except  Silverheels,"  suggested  Stacey,  busily 
engaged  in  priming  his  flintlock. 

"  Well,  he's  a  halfbreed,"  Isaac  replied,  triumph- 
antly ;  "  an'  it's  the  white  blood  in  him  that  makes 
him  half-decent.  What  d'you  think's  a-goin'  to  be- 
come of  us,  Mr.  Paul  ?  " 

"  Our  day's  experience  is  somewhat  discourag- 
ing," Paul  admitted ;  "  but  I  doubt  not  we  shall  find 
game  somewhere.  We  made  a  mistake  in  stopping 
too  near  Waterford.  We  should  have  gone  farther 
up  the  river.  I  was  going  to  suggest  that  we  camp 
here  tonight,  and  that,  on  the  morrow,  we  move  up 
the  stream  —  " 

He  broke  off  suddenly ;  and  the  three  men  leaped 
to  their  feet,  gripping  their  guns. 

"  I  heard  a  rifle  shot !  "  Paul  said  decidedly.  The 
others  nodded. 

A  crashing  sound  as  of  some  large  body  forcing 
its  way  through  the  bushes  a  few  rods  down  the 
stream,  was  borne  to  their  ears. 

"  It's  some  animal,"  Stacey  said,  in  a  low  tone ; 
"  and  it's  making  toward  the  water." 

"  No  it  ain't  —  here  it  comes  !  Watch  out !  " 
Isaac  replied  in  the  same  intense  undertone. 

Graydon's  rifle  spoke,  as  a  shaggy  head  parted 
the  bushes  and  a  pair  of  fiery  eyes  met  his  own. 
It  was  a  large  black  bear.  The  ball  from 
Paul's  gun  took  effect  in  the  beast's  shoulder ;  and, 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  171 

with  a  savage  growl  of  rage  and  pain,  it  advanced 
swiftly  upon  the  trio.  Paul  sprang  backward  to 
avoid  the  angry  animal  and  to  give  his  friends  a 
chance  to  fire,  but  tripped  and  fell ;  and  the  bear  was 
upon  him. 

"  Shoot,  John,  shoot !  "  he  cried,  as  he  attempted 
to  roll  out  of  reach  of  the  black  mass.  Stacey's 
and  Meeks's  rifles  cracked  simultaneously,  and  one 
of  the  bullets  found  the  bear's  heart.  The  great 
beast  fell  dead  just  as  it  had  thrown  itself  upon  the 
prostrate  man. 

Graydon's  friends  dragged  him  from  beneath  the 
carcass,  and  were  delighted  to  find  that,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  a  few  scratches,  he  was  unhurt. 

"  That  was  a  purty  close  shave,  an'  nobody  to 
blame,"  Isaac  remarked,  as  he  began  to  reload  his 
rifle.  "  If  it  hadn't  been  fer  that  beech  root  you'd 
'ave  been  all  right,  Mr.  Paul.  Good  thing  you 
wasn't  alone  —  'r  that  shot  o'  yours  'Id  'ave  cost 
you  y'r  life.  You  was  in  such  a  big  hurry  to  'ave 
the  first  chance  that  you  shot  too  high.  You  can't 
kill  a  bear  by  shootin'  him  in  the  shoulder !  " 

"  I  am  aware  of  that,"  Paul  answered  tartly  as  he 
examined  his  injured  shoulder.  "  I  aimed  hastily 
and  missed  a  vital  spot."  -  —  And  picking  up  his  gun 
he  began  to  reload  it. 

"  Well,  it  seems  that  when  we  can't  find  game,  it 
walks  right  up  to  us  to  be  killed,"  Isaac  laughed,  as 
he  threw  down  his  loaded  rifle  and,  whipping  out 
his  hunting  knife,  prepared  to  skin  their  prize. 


172  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  Hold  a  moment ! "  Stacey  cried,  as  the  hunter 
stooped  over  the  carcass.  "  Somebody  fired  at  this 
animal  just  before  we  saw  it." 

"  That's  so,"  Meeks  said  reflectively,  as  he 
dropped  on  his  knees,  knife  in  hand,  and  commenced 
a  hasty  examination  of  the  carcass.  Of  a  sudden 
he  exclaimed : 

"  Here's  his  mark,  as  sure  's  shootin' !  Right  in 
the  flank ;  an'  the  bear's  been  goin'  from  him  at  the 
time.  It  must  'ave  been  a  long  shot.  Well,  I'll  git 
this  skin  off  in  a  jiffy,  an'  we'll  load  up  the  pirogue 
an'  start  f er  home  —  it's  sundown  now." 

"  Yes,"  Paul  remarked,  "  if  we  are  going  home 
tonight,  let's  hasten.  An  Indian  may  have  fired  that 
shot,  and  we  may  be  surrounded  at  this  moment." 

His  friends  were  startled  and  apprehensively 
glanced  around.  Then  Isaac  laughed  reassuringly 
and  said : 

"  Nonsense,  Mr.  Paul !  I  don't  s'pose  there's  an 
Injin  in  twenty  miles  o'  here.  Here,  Stacey,  help 
me  jerk  off  this  skin;  an'  we'll  soon  'ave  the  car- 
cass cut  up  an'  be  ready  to  start." 

"  But  who  fired  that  shot  ?  "  Graydon  persisted. 

"  A  Shawnee !  "  replied  a  deep  bass  voice.  And 
an  Indian  stepped  into  the  open  space  and  stood  be- 
fore them.  The  three  men  gazed  upon  him  in 
speechless  amazement.  At  last  Paul  found  his 
tongue  and  ejaculated: 

"  Silverheels ! " 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  173 

"  Ugh !  "  was  the  guttural  response ;  and  the  red 
hunter  seated  himself  upon  the  ground. 

"  The  Shawnee,"  Paul  continued,  indulging  in 
the  Indian's  peculiar  idiom,  "  like  a  dusky  spirit, 
flits  here  and  there.  His  footfalls  give  forth  no 
sound,  and  his  body  casts  no  shadow.  His  white 
friends  were  not  aware  of  his  presence  until  he 
spoke.  Will  he  not  tell  them  of  himself?  " 

"  Is  it  not  enough,"  Silverheels  replied  with  quiet 
dignity,  "  that,  when  the  white  hunters  were  return- 
ing empty  handed  to  their  people,  the  Shawnee  drove 
a  bear  toward  them,  that  they  might  feast  on  the 
morrow?" 

"  How  did  you  know  we  were  here  —  and  above 
all,  how  did  you  know  that  our  hunt  had  proven 
unfruitful  ?  "  Graydon  asked  in  unfeigned  surprise. 

"  My  white  friends  traversed  many  weary  miles  in 
quest  of  game  and  found  nothing.  Then  they  re- 
turned to  their  boat,  disheartened.  At  no  time  was 
the  Shawnee  far  from  them." 

"  Say !  "  Isaac  cried  suddenly,  "  Can't  you  guide 
us  to  a  place  where  there's  game  to  be  found  ?  " 

The  Indian  remained  as  stolidly  impassive  as  a 
graven  image.  He  was  silently  expressing  his  dis- 
like for  the  old  hunter.  Stacey  and  Graydon  saw 
and  understood  this ;  and  slyly  smiled  at  each  other. 
Then  Stacey  addressed  Silverheels : 

"  You've  been  our  friend  in  the  past ;  you  are  our 
friend  today.  Our  women  and  children  cry  for 


174  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

meat.  Will  you  not  show  us  where  it  may  be 
found  ?  " 

Not  a  word  from  the  graven  image ! 

"  Silverheels,"  Paul  asked  sharply,  "  are  you  my 
friend  ?  " 

The  bronze  head  nodded  slightly. 

"  For  my  sake  —  and  for  the  sake  of  those  I  hold 
dear  —  won't  you  help  us  to  procure  meat  for  our 
hungry  people  ?  " 

The  three  whites  anxiously  awaited  the  red  man's 
reply.  For  fully  a  minute  he  maintained  a  rigid  si- 
lence. Evidently  he  was  pondering  over  the  deadly 
wrongs  that  had  been  heaped  upon  his  race  and  him- 
self. The  savage  blood  in  him  called  loudly  for  re- 
venge. True,  he  had  befriended  the  whites ;  but  it 
was  one  thing  to  save  their  lives  by  fighting  in  their 
defense  —  especially  when  that  defense  gave  him  an 
opportunity  to  wreak  revenge  upon  his  enemies, 
the  Delawares  —  and  quite  another  thing  to  serve 
them  in  the  capacity  of  guide.  His  proud  spirit  re- 
volted—  but  he  loved  Paul  Graydon  with  all  the 
strength  of  his  fierce  nature.  Why,  he  did  not  know 
—  but  he  loved  him.  His  great  love  for  the  young 
Englishman  overcame  his  great  hatred  for  the  white 
race,  quenched  his  temporary  thirst  for  revenge,  and 
swept  aside  his  baser  instincts.  He  was  conquered. 
Rising  to  his  feet  he  said  quietly  —  almost  sadly : 

"  Silverheels  will  do  what  his  white  brother  de- 
sires. The  palefaces  want  meat  —  meat  they  shall 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  175 

have.  The  Shawnee  will  be  their  dog  and  lead  them 
to  the  game !  " 

This  last  sentence  he  uttered  with  bowed  head 
and  dejected  mien.  Then,  turning  to  Paul  and 
speaking  in  the  first  person,  he  continued: 

"  Here  is  my  hand.  I  pledge  you  my  lasting 
friendship.  Henceforth  you  are  my  brother,  and  I 
shall  call  you  White  Eagle.  Your  friends  shall  be 
my  friends,  through  all  the  seasons  that  come  and 
go.  I  know  a  place  where  feeds  a  herd  of  deer  that 
have  never  seen  a  white  man's  face  nor  heard  the 
crack  of  his  rifle.  Come  with  me  to  my  lodge  on 
the  Bald  Eagle ;  and  tomorrow  I  will  load  your  boat 
with  meat." 

He  stepped  in  front  of  John  and  Isaac,  saying : 

"  You  are  White  Eagle's  friends,  therefore  you 
are  my  friends." 

He  shook  their  extended  hands,  and  again  turn- 
ing to  Paul,  concluded : 

"  My  brother,  let  us  be  moving.  The  sun  has  hid 
his  face  behind  the  hills ;  and  the  lodge  of  the  Shaw- 
nee  is  many  canoe-lengths  up  the  Moose  Eye. 
Come." 

"  Let's  take  some  o'  this  bear  meat  with  us," 
Isaac  suggested ;  "  it's  a  shame  to  waste  it  —  an' 
we'll  be  wantin'  it  fer  supper." 

He  and  Stacey  removed  the  skin  from  the  dead 
animal  and  cut  off  the  most  desirable  parts  of  the 
carcass.  They  could  not  take  the  entire  body,  for 


176  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

it  would  spoil  before  they  returned  to  the  settle- 
ment. 

It  was  two  hours  after  sunset  when  they  reached 
Silverheels'  lodge  upon  the  western  bank  of  the 
Muskingum,  a  few  yards  above  tbe  mouth  of  Bald 
Eagle  Creek.  At  the  present  time,  the  thriving  vil- 
lage of  Stockport  is  situated  just  below  the  mouth 
of  the  creek,  and  the  iron  horse  thunders  over  the 
identical  spot  where  stood  the  habitation  of  the  red 
hunter.  The  rude  hut  of  poles  was  completely  hid- 
den by  trees  and  bushes  that  surrounded  it.  As  it 
was  not  visible  from  the  river,  its  owner  had  little 
fear  of  an  attack  from  predatory  bands  of  Delawares 
or  Wyandots,  who  at  times  descended  the  stream. 
The  Muskingum,  at  this  point,  broke  into  a  series  of 
gentle  rapids  or  ripples ;  and  to  this  day  the  place  is 
called  —  "  Silverheels'  Riffle."  After  a  hearty  supper 
of  broiled  bear  steak,  the  hunters  lay  down  to  sleep. 
Some  time  during  the  night,  it  rained;  and  when 
they  awoke  the  air  was  clear  and  cool.  At  sunrise, 
they  shouldered  their  guns  and  proceeded  up  the 
creek  valley  for  nearly  a  mile,  when  they  came  to  a 
smaller  depression  between  the  hills,  leading  off  to 
the  west.  A  half  mile  up  the  narrow  dale,  they  en- 
countered the  herd,  quietly  feeding  upon  the  tender 
herbage.  They  stalked  the  beautiful  animals,  and,  at 
the  first  fire,  succeeded  in  killing  two  bucks  and  a 
doe.  The  herd  started,  but  Silverheels  dropped  an- 
other fine  buck  before  they  were  out  of  range.  The 
hunters  already  had  as  much  as  their  pirogue  could 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  177 

carry  and,  after  several  hours  of  arduous  toil,  the 
four  men  bearing  their  trophies,  again  found  them- 
selves at  the  mouth  of  Bald  Eagle  Creek.  Here 
they  ate  their  midday  meal ;  and  at  three  o'clock  be- 
gan their  homeward  voyage. 

Each  of  the  whites  thanked  Silverheels  for  the 
invaluable  service  he  had  rendered,  and,  taking  their 
places  in  the  pirogue,  they  bade  him  farewell  and 
pulled  away  down  the  river.  The  Indian  shaded  his 
eyes  from  the  rays  of  the  declining  sun  and  watched 
the  boat  until  it  had  turned  the  bend  of  the  river. 
Then,  as  though  impelled  by  some  irresistible  power, 
he  sprang  into  his  canoe  and  paddled  swiftly  in  pur- 
suit of  his  white  friends. 

Isaac  was  the  first  to  notice  the  Shawnee's  ap- 
proach. 

"  By  Jeems  Rivers !  "  he  exclaimed,  lifting  his 
oars  from  the  water  and  resting  his  arms  upon  them. 
"  There  comes  that  Injin  a-paddlin'  after  us.  If  he 
don't  beat  all  creation,  then  my  name  ain't  Isaac 
Meeks ! " 

Silverheels  easily  overtook  them.  He  offered  no 
word  in  explanation  of  his  conduct;  and  the  colo- 
nists asked  for  none.  When  he  was  two  miles 
below  the  mouth  of  Bald  Eagle  Creek,  he  ceased 
paddling  and  waited  for  the  others  to  overtake  him. 
Then  it  was  that  he  spoke  for  the  first  time. 

"  If  my  white  friends  want  homes,  why  do  they 
not  build  their  lodges  here  ?  "  —  And  he  pointed  to 
the  wooded  bank  upon  their  left. 
12 


i;8  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  Is  it  a  good  place  ?  "  Paul  inquired,  somewhat 
amused  at  the  red  man's  question,  yet  pleased  at  his 
interest  in  their  affairs. 

"  Ugh !  "  was  the  guttural  rejoinder. 

"  I  see  the  timber  grows  mighty  thick  an'  heavy 
on  the  bottom  there,"  Meeks  commented ;  "  an'  that 
shows  a  rich  soil.  I  wouldn't  wonder  it  was  a  first- 
rate  place  fer  a  settlement." 

"  Paul,  ask  your  red  brother  the  extent  of  this 
level  bottom-land,"  Stacey  requested. 

Graydon  put  the  question  to  Silverheels  and  re- 
ceived in  reply :  "  Very  wide  —  very  long  —  very 
big  trees." 

They  resumed  their  journey,  talking  over  the 
Shawnee's  suggestion.  At  dusk  they  reached  the 
settlement  of  Waterford.  As  they  were  passing  the 
twinkling  lights  upon  the  bank,  a  voice  from  the 
shadows  hailed  them,  with : 

"  Hello !  John  Stacey,  is  that  you  and  your 
party  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  Stacey  hallooed  in  return. 

"  Well,  you've  made  your  folks  uneasy  by  your 
absence  over  night.  A  boatload  of  men  was  up  here 
looking  for  you  this  afternoon.  They  left  for  home 
about  an  hour  ago.  You'll  probably  overtake  them, 
for  they'll  go  slow,  hoping  to  see  or  hear  something 
of  you.  Good-night !  " 

Two  hours  after  passing  Waterford  our  friends 
came  up  with  the  party. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

IT  was  the  morning  after  the  return  of  the  hunting 
expedition  —  and  it  was  the  morning  of  the 
Fourth  of  July.  The  sky  was  cloudless;  and  the 
heat,  excessive.  Not  a  breath  of  air  rippled  the  face 
of  the  shimmering  water.  The  corn  blades  were  half 
wilted  and  the  leaves  of  the  forest  trees  hung  pen- 
dulous and  lifeless.  Heat  waves  danced  upward 
from  the  clearings.  All  nature  seemed  in  a  coma- 
tose state  —  with  man  the  only  disturbing  element. 

It  was  a  gala  day  at  Marietta ;  and  the  inhabitants 
were  out  in  holiday  attire.  Two  other  hunting  par- 
ties had  returned,  laden  with  game;  and  the  fisher- 
men had  made  the  most  successful  catch  of  the  sea- 
son. For  the  first  time  in  months,  the  people  had 
an  abundance  of  food;  and  they  purposed  to  cele- 
brate the  natal  day  of  their  country  with  feasting 
and  rejoicing.  Uneasiness  over  the  prolonged  ab- 
sence of  Paul  and  his  comrades  had  given  place  to 
exuberant  joy  over  their  success  and  safe  return. 

By  eight  o'clock,  the  whole  settlement  was  abroad 
and  astir.  Barking  dogs  and  laughing  children  ran 
here,  there  and  everywhere.  Boating  parties  dotted 
the  rivers.  The  soldiers  from  Fort  Harmer,  clad 
in  gaudy  but  faded  continental  uniforms,  stalked 

(179) 


i8o  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

about.  Governor  St.  Clair  and  other  dignitaries, 
gorgeous  with  lace  and  brass  buttons,  mingled  with 
the  people  and  nodded  and  smiled  to  one  and  all. 
Winsome  maids  and  waddling  matrons  crossed  and 
recrossed  one  another's  paths,  the  bright  dresses  and 
garish  ribbons  of  the  girls  contrasting  with  the 
sober-hued  gowns  of  their  elders.  And  the  varie- 
gated dress  of  the  men  of  the  colony !  What  con- 
trasts !  Anything  and  everything  to  suit  the  purse 
and  taste  of  the  wearer!  Nut-brown  linsey-wool- 
sey, yellow  tow-linen,  fringed  and  ornamented  buck- 
skin !  Cocked  hats  and  coonskin  caps !  Cowhide 
boots  and  beaded  moccasins  1 

At  ten  o'clock  services  of  semi-religious  character 
were  held  under  a  canopy  of  green  boughs,  erected 
upon  the  bank  of  the  Muskingum.  Rev.  Daniel 
Story  invoked  God's  blessing.  Governor  St.  Clair, 
General  Rufus  Putnam,  Colonel  Return  Jonathan 
Meigs  and  others  told  of  the  struggles,  privations 
and  hardships  through  which  the  settlers  had  come, 
and  predicted  the  future  greatness  of  the  Northwest 
Territory.  These  speeches  were  received  with  vo- 
ciferous enthusiasm  —  enthusiasm  that,  as  one 
speaker  followed  another,  bordered  on  frenzy,  for 
patriotism  was  on  tap,  and  on  tap,  also,  was  a  certain 
drink  calculated  to  bring  forth  the  plaudits  of  a 
crowd.  This  drink  was  spirituous,  but  not  spiritual ; 
and  the  brawny  backwoodsmen  were  becoming 
warm  inside  as  well  as  outside.  Even  the  gov- 
ernor's face  was  rosier  than  its  wont ;  and  the  minis- 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  181 

ter's  breath  had  the  fruity  smell  of  old  peach- 
brandy  ! 

At  twelve,  the  meeting  adjourned  for  dinner. 
Paul  and  Gumbo  sat  down  with  the  family  of  their 
old  friend,  Isaac  Meeks.  Marie  was  spending  the 
day  with  Louise,  whose  youngest  sister  was  ill. 
Perhaps  it  was  as  well  the  young  woman  was  not 
present.  Her  sensibilities  might  have  been  shocked, 
for  Isaac  —  the  sedate  and  upright  Isaac  —  was  in- 
clined to  an  excessive  volubility  that  brought  down 
upon  his  devoted  head  Nancy's  quick  and  vigorous 
condemnation.  Poor  man !  He  was  not  at  all  to 
blame;  his  glibness  of  tongue  was  due  to  draughts 
of  patriotism  —  patriotism  and  peach-brandy. 

Dinner  over,  the  villagers  reassembled  for  the 
games  and  sports  that  were  common  to  the  time. 
Chief  among  these  were  wrestling,  boxing,  foot-rac- 
ing, shooting  at  a  mark,  jumping,  and  dancing. 
Under  the  branches  of  a  spreading  elm,  the  flying 
feet  of  the  young  people,  keeping  time  to  a  whistled 
tune,  played  havoc  with  velvet  grass  and  midsum- 
mer flowers.  Uncle  Sam  Mitchell,  an  old  sailor 
from  the  garrison,  furnished  the  flute-like  strains  to 
which  the  lithe  and  nimble  youngsters  tripped.  The 
old  man  sat  upon  a  stump  at  one  side,  his  leathern 
face  puckered  into  a  grimace  that  lent  an  additional 
zest  to  the  enjoyable  pastime,  and  tapped  his  foot 
and  bobbed  his  head  to  the  rhythm  of  his  own  music. 

"  Marse  Paul,  why  doesn't  you  jump  in  dar  an' 
show  dem  folks  how  to  dance  de  ol'  Virginny 


i82  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

Reel  ?  "  cried  Gumbo,  his  face  shining  with  anima- 
tion. 

"  They  seem  to  be  enjoying  themselves  very  well," 
Paul  replied  quietly,  "  and  I  don't  care  to  make  my- 
self conspicuous." 

"  But  dey's  dancin'  dem  new  fangled  quadrillions 
an'  —  " 

"  You  mean  cotillions,  Gumbo." 

"  Dat's  w'at  I  said  —  an'  I  doesn't  like  dem.  De 
ol-'  Virginny  Reel's  better  dan  any  hifalutin  codrill 
in  de  worl'.  Doesn't  you  mean  to  dance,  Marse 
Paul?" 

"  No." 

"Why?" 

"  I  wish  to  retain  my  steadiness  of  nerve,  for  the 
shooting  match  that's  to  come  off  soon,"  answered 
Graydon,  a  queer  smile  playing  around  his  lips. 

Gumbo  winked  knowingly  and  haw-hawed. 

"  I  understands  all  dat  —  I  does  !  You'd  be  out 
dar  dancin'  like  de  ol'  Nick,  if  de  purty  little  gal  was 
heah.  You  can't  fool  dis  nigger,  Marse  Paul !  Ki 
yi!  Dar  she  comes  —  her  an'  de  gov'nor's  gal. 
Now  we'll  see  —  now  we'll  see !  " 

Marie  and  Louise  approached,  and  Paul  stepped 
forward  to  greet  them.  It  was  the  first  time  he  and 
the  governor's  daughter  had  met  since  their  conver- 
sation at  the  blockhouse ;  and  he  was  a  little  embar- 
rassed. However,  he  extended  a  hand  to  each  and 
greeted  them  cordially.  Then  he  asked : 

"  Louise,  how  is  your  sister  ?  " 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R  183 

"  She  appears  a  little  brighter  this  afternoon. 
We  left  her  in  care  of  Mrs.  Tupper  and  came  out  for 
a  breath  of  fresh  air.  Marie  is  very  good  to  me, 
Paul ;  I  don't  know  what  I  should  do  without  her. 
My  mother  's  not  here,  you  know.  Let's  be  going, 
Marie ;  we  shall  have  to  return  to  the  house  soon." 

Her  manner  was  one  of  quiet  dignity,  betraying 
neither  shame  nor  confusion.  Gray  don  was  agree- 
ably surprised.  Had  she  forgotten  him  so  readily? 
Then  she  had  not  loved  him  as  Stacey  had  thought. 
And  Paul  was  glad  to  know  his  friend  had  been  mis- 
taken. He  knew  nothing  of  the  fiery  furnace 
through  which  she  had  gone. 

He  watched  the  two  young  women  until,  arm-in- 
arm, they  disappeared.  Then  he  sauntered  to  the 
field  where  the  men  were  indulging  in  wrestling, 
boxing,  and  foot-racing.  Peals  of  boisterous  laugh- 
ter greeted  his  ears  as  he  drew  near ;  and  he  knew 
instinctively  that  some  ludicrous  horse-play  was  in 
progress. 

"  Go  in,  Parson  —  go  in,  Parson !  Down  to  it, 
Colonel  —  hurry  up,  Colonel !  Whoopee  —  whoop- 
ee —  hurrah  !  Whee-e-e !  " 

At  the  sound,  Paul  quickened  his  steps,  and  in  a 
moment  reached  a  point  where  he  had  a  fair  view  of 
the  field.  A  scene  met  his  gaze  that  caused  him  to 
fling  his  hat  in  air  and  laugh  until  the  tears  ran 
down  his  cheeks  and  his  throat  and  jaws  ached. 
Rev.  Daniel  Story  was  running  a  foot-race  with 
Colonel  Meigs !  The  colonel  was  handicapped  by 


184  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R 

having  a  ten-year-old  boy  upon  his  back.  The 
course  was  a  two  hundred  yards  dash  to  a  goal  and 
an  immediate  return. 

"  Here  they  come !  Look  at  the  parson  —  he's 
got  the  lead !  It's  the  parson's  race !  Hurrah  for 
Story  —  three  cheers  for  the  parson !  Hip  —  hip  — 
hurrah ! " 

The  three  cheers  for  the  minister  were  given 
with  a  will,  and  the  colonel  was  treated  to  a  fine  ex- 
hibition of  mock  scorn. 

"  Dat's  one  time  de  angel  ob  light  outrun  de  debil 
ob  darkness !  "  Gumbo  shouted ;  and  again  the  hi- 
larity broke  forth. 

Paul  noticed  a  tall,  broad-shouldered,  muscular 
man  standing  apart  from  the  group  that  encircled 
the  victor  and  vanquished.  The  stranger  was 
dressed  in  a  full  suit  of  fringed  and  beaded  buck- 
skin ;  and  a  coonskin  cap,  with  the  tail  of  the  animal 
attached,  surmounted  the  shock  of  coarse  red  hair 
that  fell  in  uncombed  masses  upon  his  shoulders. 
At  his  side  hung  bullet-pouch  and  powder-horn  — 
the  latter  carved  in  fanciful  designs  —  and  resting 
across  the  hollow  of  his  left  arm  was  a  fine  silver- 
mounted  rifle.  His  face  was  smooth,  square- jawed 
and  sensual ;  and  he  appeared  to  be  about  thirty-five 
years  old. 

"  Who  is  that  man?  "  Paul  asked  of  John  Stacey. 

"  What  man  ?  "  was  the  quick  reply. 

Paul  pointed  to  the  red-haired  stranger. 

"  Oh  !  " —  And  Stacey  caught  his  breath  sharply. 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  185 

—  "I  didn't  know  he  was  here.  That's  Red  Wal- 
lace." 

"  And  who's  Red  Wallace,  pray  ?  " 

"  In  telling  you  his  name,  I've  told  you  all  I 
know  of  him,"  John  replied  soberly.  "  He  says  he's 
a  fur-trader  among  the  Indians ;  but  I  doubt  his 
word  —  I  don't  know  why.  In  some  way  the  report 
has  become  current  here  that  he's  an  outlaw  —  a 
renegade,  and  that  he  has  figured  in  more  than  one 
Indian  massacre." 

"  He  has  an  evil  face,  John.  How  often  has  he 
visited  the  settlement?" 

"  I  think  this  is  the  fourth  time.  He  stays  but  a 
few  hours,  and  leaves  in  the  night.  No  one  knows 
whence  he  comes  or  whither  he  goes." 

"  I  dislike  his  looks,"  Paul  mused.  "  There's 
something  about  him  that  repels  one.  But  yonder 
comes  Silverheels  !  Where  has  that  Shawnee  been? 
This  is  a  strange  country,  and  many  are  the  odd 
characters  one  meets.  Hello!  what  is  your  Red 
Wallace  doing  now  ?  " 

The  stranger  had  thrown  down  his  rifle  and  di- 
vested himself  of  cap  and  hunting  shirt.  Now  he 
spat  upon  his  hands,  and,  jumping  upward  and 
cracking  his  heels  together,  bellowed : 

"  Maybe  some  o'  you  fellows  are  pretty  good  men, 
but  I  can  throw  down  and  drag  out  any  man  in  the 
settlement!  Don't  stand  there  and  gawk!  If 
there's  any  o'  you  wants  to  be  put  on  his  back,  just 
step  out  here !  " 


186  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  A  challenge !  "  laughed  Paul.  Stacey  grinned 
and  nodded.  To  right  and  to  left  of  the  two 
friends,  men  stood  conversing  in  low,  earnest  tones, 
and  glancing  askance  at  Wallace.  The  breezy  mur- 
mur of  many  voices  swelled  louder. 

"  For  the  credit  of  the  colony,  someone  ought  to 
accept  that  challenge,"  General  Rufus  Putnam  said 
in  a  low  tone.  "  Were  I  a  little  younger,  I  shouldn't 
hesitate  to  meet  him  myself." 

Again  Red  Wallace  cried : 

"  All  afraid,  are  you  ?  Come  on  —  I  won't  more 
than  break  your  bones !  I  didn't  think  I  could  scare 
you  out  so  easily.  Won't  somebody  try  me  just  one 
fall?  You've  got  a  doctor  here  —  he'll  set  your 
bones !  Come  on.  I'll  challenge  any  two  of  you 
pretty  soon ! " 

"  I  can't  stand  this !  "  General  Putnam  muttered 
testily.  "  Where's  Sproat  ?  Somebody  must  wres- 
tle that  man.  It'll  never  do  to  have  it  said  he  backed 
down  every  man  in  the  colony !  " 

Paul  turned  to  the  general  and  said  quietly : 

"  I  believe,  general,  that  I  can  throw  him ;  but  I 
expect  to  take  part  in  the  shooting-match,  and  I 
don't  care  to  excite  my  nerves.  However,  I  know 
a  man  who  can  put  the  defiant  blackguard  on  his 
back,  in  less  time  than  it  takes  me  to  tell  you." 

"  Who  —  who  ?  "  inquired  General  Putnam,  ea- 
gerly. 

"  Gumbo." 

"The  black?" 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  187 

"  Yes." 

"Where  is  he?" 

"  He  was  here  a  moment  ago." 

Just  then  the  darky  .came  running  up  to  Paul,  his 
black  face  shining  with  sweat  and  excitement. 

"  Marse  Paul,"  he  cried,  "  Fs  gwine  to  wrassel  dat 
rambumpsherous  braggard  out  dar !  " 

"  Do  you  think  you  are  his  match,  Gumbo?  "  Paul 
asked,  smiling. 

"  'Deed  I  is,  Marse  Paul !  " 

"  Very  well  —  go ;  but  be  careful  that  he  doesn't 
attempt  to  injure  you.  You'll  find  him  tricky  and 
treacherous." 

A  lusty  cheer  went  up  from  the  settlers  as  Gumbo 
stepped  forth  and  accepted  the  challenge.  As  it 
died  out,  Red  Wallace  said  sneeringly : 

'  That's  right  —  send  out  a  nigger !  Bah ! 
Every  white  man  in  the  settlement's  afraid.  Well,  I 
don't  object.  Come  on,  nigger.  How  do  you  want 
to  wrestle  ?  " 

"  Any  ways  —  /  doesn't  keer,"  replied  Gumbo, 
grinning  broadly. 

"  Oh,  you  doesn't  keer,  doesn't  you !  "  Wallace 
mimicked.  "  Well,  let  it  be  catch-as-catch-can,  best 
two  out  of  three." 

"  Dat  suits  dis  nigger  fir'  strate ! "  the  black 
chuckled. 

In  those  days  a  wrestling-match  was  a  rough-and- 
tumble  affair,  without  rules  or  referees.  Nothing 


i88  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

but  a  sense  of  honor  restrained  the  participants  from 
doing  bodily  injury. 

As  Gumbo  and  Wallace  faced  each  other  and 
stood  awaiting-  the  drop  of  the  hat,  their  physical 
differences  became  apparent.  Wallace  had  the  ad- 
vantage in  weight  and  breadth  of  shoulders ;  the 
black,  in  depth  of  chest  and  stockiness  of  build. 
Both  were  active,  athletic  men.  Wallace  was  a  full 
half  head  taller  than  the  darky  —  but  that  fact  did 
not  redound  to  his  advantage.  The  general  opinion 
was  that  the  two  were  very  evenly  matched. 

A  ring  of  eager  men  surrounded  the  contestants. 
Every  voice  was  stilled  as  General  Tupper  ad- 
vanced, hat  in  hand,  and  took  a  position  at  one  side. 

"  One  —  two  —  three !  "  he  shouted.  The  hat 
dropped  to  the  ground ;  and  like  hounds  loosed  from 
the  leash,  the  two  men  sprang  forward.  In  the 
clinch  Gumbo  succeeded  in  getting  the  under  hold. 
Around  and  around  they  whirled,  each  making  vio- 
lent efforts  to  fling  the  other  off  his  feet.  Red  Wal- 
lace leaned  over  the  stooped  form  of  the  black,  lock- 
ing his  hands  over  the  darky's  back,  and  attempted 
to  press  him  to  earth.  It  could  not  be  done.  Then 
he  loosed  his  hold,  caught  Gumbo  by  the  shoulders, 
and,  suddenly  springing  backward,  sought  to  jerk 
the  negro  prone.  He  failed  —  and  Gumbo's  oppor- 
tunity was  at  hand.  Ere  the  white  man  could  re- 
cover his  poise  and  tighten  his  grip,  the  black  lifted 
him  bodily,  and,  throwing  a  leg  behind  him,  pressed 
him  to  grass.  Gumbo  had  won  the  first  fall. 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  189 

What  a  series  of  shouts  and  cheers  went  up  from 
the  settlers  !  The  negro  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  Red 
Wallace  quickly  resumed  an  upright  position  —  a 
scowl  of  malignant  anger  upon  his  ruddy  face. 

"  I'll  break  every  bone  in  your  body  this  time,  you 
black  imp !  "  he  howled. 

The  crowd  jeered  and  mocked  the  angry  man,  and 
Gumbo  returned  laughingly : 

"  Dat's  all  right  —  dis  nigger  can  take  keer  ob  his- 
se'f.  I's  gwine  to  gib  you  a.  shakin'  up  dis  time 
dat'll  warm  de  wax  in  yo'  ears !  Is  you  all  ready  ?  " 

"  Yes !  "  cried  Wallace  with  an  oath. 

Again  the  hat  dropped  and  again  they  came  to- 
gether. The  second  round  was  shorter  than  the 
first.  Gumbo  had  learned  his  antagonist's  weak 
points,  and  wasted  no  time  in  getting  the  hold  he  de- 
sired. He  chose  a  left-side  underhold  —  with  his 
strong  right  arm  around  Wallace's  waist.  The  latter 
felt  the  black  lifting  him  from  his  feet,  and  vainly 
struggled  to  break  away.  Little  by  little,  Gumbo 
edged  under  his  opponent,  until  he  had  him  upon 
the  hip.  Wallace  knew  what  was  coming,  and 
clawed  and  scratched  to  free  himself  from  the 
darky's  vise-like  embrace.  Quickly  stooping  —  and 
at  the  same  time  loosing  his  hold  —  the  black  man 
shot  the  other  over  his  head,  like  a  stone  from  a  cata- 
pult. Wallace  fell  like  a  log;  and  the  second  and 
last  round  was  Gumbo's. 

The  colonists  cheered  more  wildly  than  before, 
and  flung  taunts  innumerable  at  the  vanquished 


190  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

braggart,  who  was  beside  himself  with  rage  and 
mortification.  Leaping  to  his  feet,  he  dashed  at  the 
negro,  with  a  string  of  expletives,  bawling : 

"  No  nigger  shall  beat  me  in  a  wrestle.  It  was  a 
trick  —  it  wasn't  fair !  Here !  don't  be  leaving ;  I'm 
going  to  throw  you,  you  black  scoundrel,  if  it  takes 
all  the  afternoon !  " 

Gumbo  was  not  loath  to  give  Wallace  entire  satis- 
faction ;  but  Paul  stepped  forward  and  said  authori- 
tatively : 

"  You  have  done  enough.     Come." 

"  Who're  you?"  demanded  Wallace,  advancing 
threateningly. 

"  Paul  Graydon  of  Virginia,  at  your  service." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Paul  Graydon,  let  me  tell  you  you're 
interfering  in  what's  none  of  your  business !  If  I 
want  to  wrestle  the  nigger,  I'll  wrestle  him  in  spite 
of  you  or  anybody  else.  Do  you  hear  me  ?  " 

"  I  hear,"  Paul  replied,  with  unruffled  composure. 

"  Well,  what  have  you  got  to  say  ?  "  cried  Red 
Wallace. 

"  That  Gumbo  shall  not  wrestle  with  you  again." 

"  Look  here,  stripling !  "  the  other  thundered. 
"If  you  don't  shut  your  mouth  and  get  out  of  here, 
I'll  thrash  you  within  an  inch  of  your  life." 

"Indeed?" 

The  word  was  hissed  through  Paul's  set  teeth. 
His  English  pugnacity  was  aroused.  Throwing  off 
his  coat  and  squarely  facing  the  fellow,  he  con- 
tinued : 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  191 

"If  nothing  but  a  pummeling  will  silence  your 
boastful  tongue,  a  pummeling  you  shall  have !  " 

Then  to  his  friends :  "  Out  of  the  way,  men  — 
give  us  room !  " 

The  settlers  surged  backward.  Their  voices 
swelled  into  one  mighty  cheer  for  Graydon.  Then 
the  hush  of  expectancy  fell  upon  them. 

With  a  howl  like  a  frenzied  beast,  Red  Wallace 
jumped  at  the  throat  of  his  lithe  but  muscular  ad- 
versary. He  thought  to  bear  Graydon  to  earth,  and 
have  him  at  his  mercy.  But  he  reckoned  without 
his  host.  Springing  lightly  to  one  side,  Paul  dealt 
the  ruffian  a  blow  on  the  side  of  the  jaw  that  sent 
him  to  the  grass.  Wallace's  face  was  purple  with 
baffled  rage  and  his  lips  were  dripping  foam,  as  he 
arose  and  rushed  on  Paul  again.  Graydon  repeated 
his  tactics  to  such  purpose  that  the  bully  received  a 
blow  in  the  neck  which  dropped  him  in  a  heap  upon 
the  ground.  His  eyelids  quivered  and  dropped ;  his 
limbs  twitched  and  were  still.  Red  Wallace  was 
unconscious. 

The  settlers  raised  Paul  upon  their  shoulders  and 
paraded  up  and  down  in  front  of  the  prostrate  man, 
cheering ;  and,  in  derision,  called  upon  him  to  renew 
the  fight.  But  Wallace  was  oblivious. 

Some  one  brought  a  pail  of  water  and  threw  upon 
him.  Presently  he  stirred  uneasily,  put  his  hand  to 
his  forehead  abstractedly,  and  sat  up.  Struggling- 
to  his  feet,  he  cast  a  look  of  malignant  hate  upon 
Paul  Graydon. 


192  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  You'll  pay  for  this ! "  he  muttered ;  and  slunk 
away. 

"  I  admire  much  your  courage  and  skill,  my 
young  friend,  but  I  fear  you  have  called  up  a  jinnee 
that  will  be  hard  to  down,"  said  Governor  St. 
Clair,  as  he  laid  his  hand  caressingly  upon  Paul's 
shoulder.  "  If  I  read  that  man  aright,  he's  a  scoun- 
drel and  will  never  rest  until  he's  revenged." 

Graydon  was  as  unruffled  as  before  the  encounter, 
as  he  replied: 

"  I  don't  fear  him.  I've  vanquished  him  once ;  I 
can  do  it  again." 

"  I  don't  mean  that  he  will  openly  attack  you. 
That  isn't  his  method  of  attack.  He's  more  likely 
to  employ  subterfuge  and  treachery,  to  wreak  his 
vengeance.  Have  a  care  for  him." 

Here  Stacey  plucked  Paul's  sleeve  and  said  in  an 
undertone :  "  When  you're  through  talking  to  the 
governor,  come  down  to  the  Point.  The  men  are 
ready  to  begin  shooting." 

As  the  governor  walked  away  in  the  direction  of 
Campus  Martius,  the  two  friends  turned  their  steps 
toward  the  Point.  As  they  drew  near,  Gumbo 
came  running  toward  them. 

"  Hurry  up,  Marse  Paul  an'  Marse  John !  "  he 
cried  breathlessly.  "  Dey's  done  gone  shot  free  Jr 
four  times,  a' ready." 

"  Who  are  the  contestants  ?  "  Stacey  inquired. 

Gumbo  rolled  his  eyes  and  pulled  his  kinky  wool, 
in  perplexity.  He  did  not  know  the  meaning  of  the 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R  193 

word,  and  he  desired  to  conceal  his  ignorance ;  there- 
fore he  kept  silent. 

"  Who  are  the  contestants  —  the  participants  ?  " 
Stacey  repeated. 

"  Does  you  mean  who's  doin'  de  shootin',  Marse 
John,  w'en  you  says  p'rtissypants  ?  " 

"  Yes,  who  are  the  marksmen?  " 

"  Oh !  "  —  And  the  darky  grinned  more  broadly 
than  before — "some  ob  de  sojers  from  Fort  Har- 
mer  —  " 

"  Are  they  using  their  smooth-bore  guns  ?  "  Paul 
interrupted. 

"  Yes,  Marse  Paul." 

"  They  have  no  chance,"  Gray  don  remarked  to 
Stacey ;  "  smooth-bore  guns  are  inaccurate.  The 
soldiers  are  foolish  to  enter  a  contest  with  the  rifle- 
men." 

Then  to  Gumbo:     "Go  on  —  name  the  others." 

The  black  spread  the  pudgy  fingers  of  his  left 
hand,  and,  with  the  index  finger  of  his  right,  touched 
the  outspread  digits  in  turn,  as  he  named  the  crack- 
shots  of  the  settlement.  He  concluded  with :  "  An' 
Isaac,  an'  dat  Silberheels." 

The  target  was  a  piece  of  white  paper  six  inches 
square  and  having  a  black  center  two  inches  in  dia- 
meter. It  was  fastened  to  the  smooth  trunk  of  a 
sycamore  one  hundred  yards  from  the  marksmen. 

"  That's  one  of  the  soldiers,"  Stacey  whispered  to 
his  companion. 

Graydon  nodded,  but  kept  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the 
13 


194  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R 

target.  The  soldier's  gun  cracked  and  the  bullet 
sped  upon  its  course. 

"  One  inch  to  the  right  of  the  paper !  "  shouted 
the  marker. 

Shouts  of  derisive  laughter  greeted  the  words ; 
and,  sulkily  shouldering  his  piece,  the  soldier  retired. 
Others  followed,  the  marker  announcing  the  result 
of  each  man's  shot.  A  sensation  was  created  as 
Isaac  lowered  his  rifle  and  stepped  from  the  line. 
The  marker  cried  exultingly : 

"  Best  shot  yet !  One-half  inch  from  the  center 
—  directly  underneath.  Beats  the  Shawnee's  shot 
by  a  fourth  of  an  inch." 

Ripples  of  applause  ran  through  the  group.  It 
was  Stacey's  turn.  Stepping  to  the  line  he  took 
quick  aim  and  fired. 

"  A  tie !  "  the  marker  shouted,  "  To  the  left  of  the 
center." 

"  Who  does  he  tie  ?  "  asked  a  voice. 

"  Meeks,"  was  the  laconic  rejoinder. 

The  ripples  of  applause  swelled  to  tiny  waves  that 
died  out  suddenly,  as  Paul  toed  the  line,  and,  fling- 
ing his  rifle  to  his  shoulder,  pulled  the  trigger. 

"  One-fourth  inch  over  the  center !  Best  shot 
yet!" 

The  tiny  waves  of  applause  grew  to  billows. 

"  It's  the  Indian's  turn  —  the  Shawnee's  the  last 
man. —  Out  of  the  way  and  let  Silverheels  shoot !  " 

A  dozen  men  were  shouting  themselves  hoarse; 
but  the  redman  did  not  take  his  place. 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  IQ5 

"  Are  you  not  going  to  shoot  ?  "  Gray  don  asked 
him. 

The  savage  shook  his  head. 

"May  I  ask  why?" 

Silverheels  did  not  deign  to  reply. 

"  Who  won  the  other  round  ?  "  Paul  inquired  of  a 
man  standing  near. 

"  The  Indian." 

Again  turning  to  his  red  brother,  Graydon  said 
in  a  half-provoked  tone: 

"  I  insist  that  you  shoot  —  I  shall  feel  hurt  if  you 
do  not  do  as  I  request." 

Without  a  word,  Silverheels  sprang  to  the  line, 
and,  with  lightning  rapidity,  aimed  his  rifle  and 
fired. 

"  Just  in  the  edge  of  the  black  —  two  inches  from 
the  center !  Graydon's  round." 

Paul  felt  certain  Silverheels  had  shot  at  random, 
almost  —  had  made  a  poor  shot  purposely.  The 
Indian  would  not  beat  his  white  brother.  The  bil- 
lows of  applause  rose  to  the  height  of  tidal  waves. 

Colonel  Sproat  cried : 

"  Meeks  and  Stacey  have  tied.  Let  them  shoot 
again  to  decide  who  's  the  better  marksman." 

"  We  ain't  a-goin'  to  shoot  no  more,"  Isaac  an- 
swered ;  "  we're  even  —  an'  we're  satisfied.  Silver- 
heels  won  a  round  an'  Mr.  Paul  won  a  round;  let 
them  shoot  to  see  who's  the  best  shot  in  the  settle- 
ment. Either  of  'em  can  beat  me  an'  John,  if  they 
try  the'r  best." 


196  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

This  suggestion  met  with  the  approbation  of  all 
but  the  two  men  themselves.  At  last,  however,  they 
yielded  to  persuasion  and  prepared  for  the  final 
trial. 

Paul  stepped  up  to  the  Shawnee  and  said  very 
earnestly :  "  Silverheels,  you  are  my  red  brother. 
If  you  beat  me  in  this  contest,  I  shall  be  pleased.  I'll 
shoot  first.  Will  you  do  your  best  to  beat  me?  " 

"  Ugh !  "  —  And  the  redman  nodded  vigorously. 

"  You'll  not  throw  away  your  chance?  " 

A  half  grieved,  half  amused  look  crept  over  the 
Indian's  features,  as  he  replied :  "  White  Eagle, 
you  have  my  promise ;  is  it  not  enough  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  Paul  answered,  and  toed  the  line.  A  new 
target  had  been  substituted  for  the  perforated  one. 
The  young  man  took  quick  but  careful  aim  and  fired. 
As  the  smoke  cleared  from  before  his  face  he  heard 
the  marker  announce : 

"Nicked  the  center !  It  may  be  tied;  but  it  won't 
be  beat!" 

As  though  doubting  the  truth  of  the  announce- 
ment, the  Shawnee  deliberately  walked  out  to  the 
mark  and  inspected  it  closely.  Then,  keeping  his 
eyes  fixed  steadily  upon  it,  he  backed  slowly  toward 
the  line. 

"  Well,  of  all  things !  "  was  the  comment  of  Isaac. 

"What's  his  object?"  was  the  question  upper- 
most in  everybody's  mind. 

"  Look  at  dat  Silberheels !  "  Gumbo  chuckled. 
"  Guess  de  Injun  debit's  done  gone  crazy  dis  time. 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  197 

Ki-yi !  He  can't  done  beat  dat  shot  o'  Marse  Paul's, 
nohow." 

Silverheels  reached  the  line,  threw  his  rifle  to  his 
shoulder,  and  took  deliberate  aim.  The  gun  cracked. 
Silently  the  spectators  awaited  the  marker's  words. 

"  Missed  the  whole  tree !  "  was  the  astounding  re- 
port of  that  individual. 

"  You're  mistaken  —  look  again !  "  were  the  cries 
that  went  up  on  all  sides. 

The  semblance  of  a  smile  played  around  the 
Shawnee's  firm  mouth.  Paul  dashed  toward  the 
target  to  investigate  for  himself.  After  a  brief  ex- 
amination, he  cried : 

"  He  has  tied  me ;  and,  in  so  doing,  has  proven 
himself  the  best  marksman  in  the  Northwest  Ter- 
ritory. He  aimed  not  at  the  mark,  but  at  the  hole 
made  by  my  ball.  His  bullet  has  passed  through 
the  opening,  without  enlarging  it.  Three  cheers, 
men  —  three  cheers  for  Silverheels,  the  crack-shot 
of  the  two  valleys !  " 

Three  loud  and  prolonged  cheers  split  the  sultry 
atmosphere  and  echoed  far  up  the  distant  hill-slopes. 
Silverheels  was  the  favorite  of  the  hour. 

At  this  moment,  some  one  raised  the  cry  —  "Emi- 
grants, emigrants !  " 

"  Where  ?  where  ?  "  —  were  the  answering  shouts. 

"  Coming  down  the  Ohio,  on  a  barge !  Let's  help 
them  to  land !  " 

The  crowd  surged  to  the  shore.  A  barge,  on 
which  were  several  families  with  their  household  ef- 


198  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

fects  and  domestic  animals,  was  quietly  approach- 
ing the  landing.  The  vessel  touched  the  beach  ;  and 
the  debarkation  commenced.  Paul  Graydon  el- 
bowed his  way  through  the  crowd,  thinking  he 
might  aid  the  newcomers.  A  hand  was  laid  upon 
his  arm ;  and  a  familiar  voice  said :  "  Won't  you 
bid  me  welcome,  Cousin  Paul  ?  " 

He  staggered  back  a  step,  raised  his  eyes  —  and 
looked  into  those  of  Hester  Lovelace ! 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

FOR  several  seconds,  Paul  Graydon  stood  silently 
staring  at  his  cousin.  His  face  showed  pale 
through  its  tan,  and  reflected  conflicting  emotions. 
Gladness,  distrust,  love  and  dislike,  were  one  and  all 
mirrored  there.  He  was  glad  to  see  her  —  she  was 
his  old-time  playmate ;  but  he  distrusted  toer  mission. 
He  loved  her,  for  the  sake  of  the  old  days  and  the 
kindness  she  and  her  parents  had  shown  him ;  but  he 
disliked  her  presence.  He  pitied  her  because  he 
knew  that  she  had  suffered ;  but  he  condemned  her 
for  the  part  she  had  played  in  her  mother's  under- 
handed scheme.  As  he  gazed,  he  saw  the  indelible 
lines  of  suffering  in  her  pale  face.  She  was  as 
beautiful  as  before ;  but  the  firm  mouth  was  a  little 
firmer,  the  bright  eyes  were  a  little  colder.  She 
stared  at  him  fearlessly,  and  awaited  his  greeting. 
At  last  he  found  his  voice ;  but  his  words  were  for- 
mal and  ungracious. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here?  "  was  his  chilling  but 
not  unnatural  question. 

The  expression  of  her  marble  features  did  not 
change. 

"  I  came  to  see  the  only  relative  I  have  on  the 
American  continent.     Is  this  my  welcome?" 

(199) 


200  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  Your  only  relative !  "  he  ejaculated. 

"  That's  what  I  said." 

"  But  Aunt  Caroline  —  " 

"  Is  in  a  better  land." 

Paul  caught  his  breath  sharply  and  cried : 

"Dead!" 

"  She  is  dead." 

They  were  attracting  attention.  Paul  took  her 
hand  and  led  her  aside.  For  some  minutes  no  word 
was  said,  as  they  seated  themselves  upon  the  green 
bank,  under  the  spreading  branches  of  a  gnarled 
beech,  with  hands  clasped.  The  voices  from  the 
landing  came  to  them,  as  a  confused  murmur.  For 
the  time,  both  were  living  in  the  past ;  and  the  hum 
of  voices  seemed  the  echo  of  those  they  had  known 
and  loved  in  childhood.  The  knowledge  of  the 
death  of  his  aunt  eradicated  all  bitterness  from 
Paul's  heart.  He  forgot  her  heartless  words  and 
actions,  and  remembered  only  the  kindness  he  had 
received  at  her  hands.  She  was  the  only  mother  he 
had  ever  known. 

"  Tell  me  all  about  Aunt  Caroline's  —  death !  "  he 
said  slowly,  at  last. 

"  She  died  within  two  weeks  after  your  depart- 
ure," Hester  replied,  looking  out  upon  the  Ohio,  and 
plucking  at  some  dead  leaves  that  clung  to  her  gray 
cloth  dress. 

"  Two  weeks  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  you  killed  her !  "  —  Her  voice  trembled. 
She  was  almost  in  tears. 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  201 

"  Hester ! "  he  cried  with  staring  eyes.  He 
thought  her  mad. 

The  young  woman's  voice  hardened  as  she  said 
almost  fiercely: 

"  You  did !  Your  leaving  us  killed  her !  At  the 
moment  of  your  departure,  she  swooned  away,  and 
she  never  rallied.  Her  last  words  were  of  you. 
She  begged  me  to  find  you  and  tell  you  she  loved  you 
as  a  son  to  the  last.  She  requested  —  "  Here  she 
faltered  and  grew  embarrassed  — "  me  to  —  to  bring 
you  back  to  Virginia  and  —  and  share  the  estate 
with  you." 

Paul  had  recovered  his  composure;  and  now  h« 
asked  quietly : 

"  And  you  came  for  that  purpose  ?  " 

"  I  did."  —  Her  voice  was  as  even  and  well  mo- 
dulated as  his  own. 

"  Who  has  charge  of  the  plantation  in  your  ab- 
sence ?  " 

"  The  overseer." 

"  Are  the  families  with  whom  you  came  through 
from  Virginia  ?  " 

"  Yes;  from  the  lower  Shenandoah." 

"  Shall  you  stay  with  them  while  you're  in  the 
settlement  ?  " 

"I  presume  so — I  know  no  others." 

"  Do  you  expect  to  remain  long  in  the  colony, 
Hester?" 

He  was  beginning  to  feel  more  at  ease.  Perhaps 
she  would  prove  tractable,  after  all.  Surely  she  un- 


202  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

derstood  that  he  would  not  marry  her.  Undoubt- 
edly she  had  come  to  fulfill  a  promise  to  her  dying 
mother,  and  not  with  any  thought  that  he  would  re- 
turn with  her.  He  was  wholly  unprepared  for  her 
answer : 

"  Until  you're  ready  to  return  with  me." 

He  started  to  his  feet  crying : 

"  You  don't  know  what  you  say !  I  have  no  in- 
tention of  returning.  I've  cast  my  lot  here,  and  here 
I  shall  stay.  All  that  I  hold  dearest  on  earth  is 
here  —  " 

She  had  arisen  and  was  standing  close  to  him. 

Now  she  interrupted  him : 

"  What  do  you  mean  when  you  say  all  you  hold 
dear  is  here  ?  " 

A  haggard  look  had  crept  into  her  face;  and  a 
sickening  dread  had  taken  possession  of  her. 

"I  forgot  —  you  do  not  know,"  he  stammered. 
Then  he  went  on  hurriedly : 

"  You'll  understand  when  I  tell  you  that  Isaac 
Meeks  and  family  are  here.  Marie  Fontanelle  is 
with  them.  As  you  know,  Hester,  I  love  her  dearly. 
After  once  losing  her,  I  won't  leave  her ;  nor  will  I 
accept  a  part  of  your  estate.  You  didn't  know  that 
they  were  here  ?  " 

"  No  —  no ;  I  did  not  —  not  know  they  were 
here,"  she  murmured,  with  white  lips. 

She  took  a  step  backward ;  and  her  eyes  fell.  Her 
face  was  like  marble ;  and  she  trembled  visibly.  All 
through  the  toilsome  and  dangerous  journey,  she 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  203 

had  been  stimulated  by  the  thought  of  again  seeing 
Paul  —  her  love.  The  hope  that  he  would  renounce 
his  quest  of  Marie  and  return  to  Virginia,  to  become 
her  husband  had  sustained  her.  It  had  not  entered 
her  mind  that  he  was  with  the  French  girl.  Was 
she  to  lose  him  at  last,  after  all  that  she  had  under- 
gone? The  thought  was  maddening.  Slowly  the 
red  blood  left  her  heart  and  mantled  her  face.  She 
experienced  a  burning,  tingling  sensation  that  ran 
from  crown  to  sole. 

Paul  noted  his  cousin's  look  and  attitude,  and  con- 
sidered it  an  auspicious  time  to  urge  her  return  to 
Virginia  as  soon  as  possible.  He  thought,  after 
what  he  had  told  her,  she  would  be  glad  to  escape  to 
the  privacy  of  her  own  home. 

"  Hester,  I'm  very  sorry  that  you  came  here  —  " 

She  looked  up  quickly  and  attempted  to  speak, 
but  he  continued : 

"I'm  glad  to  see  you,  and  I  sympathize  with  you 
in  your  bereavement,  but  —  " 

"  Paul,"  she  interrupted  half  fiercely,  "  if  Isaac 
Meeks  and  family  are  here,  then  you  know  all !" 

"Yes;  I  know  all." 

She  was  silent  a  moment ;  then  she  burst  forth  : 

"  Xo ;  you  don't  know  all!  You  don't  know  — 
you  never  can  know  —  how  madly  I  love  you !  I 
promised  my  dying  mother  I  would  find  you  and  lay 
bare  my  heart  before  you.  Oh !  Paul,  I  love  you  as 
no  other  in  the  wide  world  can  love  you !  I  —  " 

"  Hester  —  Hester !  "  was  all  he  could  say. 


204  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

She  saw  him  shrink  from  her.  But,  goaded  to 
desperation  by  bitter  disappointment,  she  poured 
forth  a  torrent  of  half  incoherent  sentences. 

"I  do  — I  do!"  she  cried  wildly.  "Why 
should  I  attempt  to  conceal  the  truth  ?  I  would  do 
anything  —  be  anything  —  to  win  you!  Without 
you,  life  is  a  waste ;  with  you,  a  bower  of  heaven ! 
See!  I  throw  myself  at  your  feet  and  entreat  you 
not  to  cast  me  off !  " 

Her  voice  softened  —  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 
She  dropped  upon  her  knees  and,  clasping  her  slim, 
white  hands,  looked  up  at  him  pleadingly.  Her 
black  hair  uncoiled  and  fell  in  glossy  waves  about 
her  shapely  shoulders.  Her  voice  was  choked  with 
sobs  as  she  continued : 

"  I  have  loved  you  long,  Paul ;  I  have  followed 
you  here  —  I  would  follow  you  to  the  ends  of  the 
earth !  All  I  have  —  all  I  am  is  yours !  Surely  you 
cannot  be  so  cruel  as  to  say  me  nay,  when  I  forget 
my  pride  and  womanhood,  and,  on  bended  knees, 
beseech  you  to  give  me  the  right  to  be  with  you 
always !  Paul  —  Paul  —  don't  look  at  me  so !  You 
will  drive  me  mad !  " 

Without  a  word,  he  stooped  to  raise  her ;  but 
she  motioned  him  away  and  panted: 

"  No  —  no !  Not  until  you  have  promised  —  not 
until  —  " 

"  Hester  Lovelace !  "  he  cried  sternly.  "  Have 
you  lost  all  reason  ?  Get  up  —  I  command  you !  " 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  205 

"  Promise  me  —  promise  me !  "  came  in  a  whisper 
from  her  dry  lips. 

Paul's  nerves  were  at  the  highest  tension,  and  his 
eyes  were  stern  as  he  said  slowly : 

"I  — can  — not!" 

Hester  sprang-  to  her.  feet  —  a  tigress  at  bay. 
Coming  close  to  him,  she  hissed: 

"  You  —  will  —  not !  " 

"  Have  it  so,"  he  answered  quietly. 

Her  features  worked  and  froth  gathered  at  the 
corners  of  her  mouth,  as,  with  disheveled  hair,  she 
stamped  her  foot  in  impotent  rage. 

"  Fool !  "  she  foamed.  "  You've  changed  my  love 
to  bitterest  hate !  Henceforth  I  live  for  revenge ! 
Take  your  baby- faced  backwoods  wench  —  but  I 
will  never  forgive  you  —  never !  I  shall  follow  you 
as  the  soft-footed  lioness  follows  her  prey  —  I  shall 
be  your  Nemesis!  You  shall  suffer  as  you  have 
made  me  suffer!  Though  you  go  to  the  remotest 
corner  of  the  globe,  I'll  follow  you  and  torment  you. 
I  wish  you  a  long  life  of  misery  —  may  you  know 
neither  peace  nor  plenty !  And  here  —  where  you 
have  spurned  me,  I  call  down  upon  your  head  the 
curses  of  the  most  high  God ! " 

She  turned  quickly  and  left  him.  Like  one  in  a 
dream,  he  followed  and  saw  her  rejoin  her  compan- 
ions. Then,  with  bowed  head,  he  turned  toward 
Campus  Martius. 

It  was  dusk.  The  people  were  at  supper  or  at- 
tending to  their  evening  chores.  Neither  Isaac  nor 


206  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

Gumbo  had  seen  Hester.  None  knew  of  her  arrival 
except  Paul.  As  he  pursued  his  way,  he  was  startled 
by  the  boom  of  a  cannon  at  Fort  Harmer.  He  paused 
and  listened.  In  a  moment  the  gruff  bark  of  another 
broke  the  stillness  of  evening,  and  sent  its  hoarse 
echoes  rolling  up  and  down  the  valleys.  Another 
and  another  followed,  until  thirteen  brazen  throats 
had  thundered  forth  the  message  that  the  "  thirteen 
united  colonies  were,  and  of  a  right  ought  to  be,  free 
and  independent  states." 

He  strode  onward  in  the  gathering  shadows,  so 
preoccupied  that  he  did  not  notice  a  man  rapidly 
coming  toward  him  from  the  blockhouse,  until  they 
were  close  together. 

"  W'y,  is  dat  you,  Marse  Paul  ?  "  cried  Gumbo's 
well-known  voice. 

"  Yes.     Where  away,  Gumbo?  " 

"  Fs  gwine  down  fo'  dat  Doctor  True ;  Marse 
Glair's  little  gal's  dyin',  dey  tinks.  In  free  'r  four 
minutes  I'll  be  back  to  git  supper,  Marse  Paul." 

"  Too  bad  —  too  bad !  "  Paul  muttered  to  himself, 
as  he  resumed  his  way.  Evidently  he  had  in  mind 
the  critical  illness  of  the  governor's  little  child, 
and  not  the  fact  that  his  black  servitor  had  promised 
to  prepare  supper. 

On  reaching  his  quarters,  the  young  man  threw 
himself  upon  a  rude  couch  of  skins  and  gave  him- 
self up  to  thought.  He  was  very  sorry;  yet  what 
else  could  he  have  done?  He  knew  Hester  would 
attempt  to  carry  out  her  threat  and  hound  him  to 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  207 

death,  if  necessary,  to  glut  her  revenge.  He  had  no 
fear,  however,  for  his  own  safety.  His  cousin  had 
wished  him  a  long  life  of  misery.  Evidently  she  did 
not  intend  to  do  him  physical  injury.  What  then? 
She  had  vowed  to  have  revenge  —  what  course 
would  she  pursue?  Marie!  He  sprang  erect  at 
the  thought.  Yes,  Hester  would  attempt  to  injure 
Marie ! 

"  She  will  rest  neither  night  nor  day  until  she 
has  had  revenge,"  he  mused  gloomily.  "  I  must 
guard  Marie  closely.  There's  no  knowing  what  a 
desperate  woman  may  attempt.  Hester  will  not  be 
turned  aside  from  her  purpose.  It's  terrible  to  think 
of  having  a  merciless  enemy  on  one's  trail  through 
all  the  years  that  are  to  come.  Until  she's  dead 
there'll  be  no  rest  for  me  or  mine  —  I  know  her  too 
well!" 

Gumbo  returned  and  talked  glibly  of  the  day, 
as  he  prepared  the  evening  meal.  Paul  had  little  to 
say.  The  quick-witted  black  saw  that  something 
was  amiss ;  but  he  did  not  betray  his  knowledge  by 
word  or  look.  He  knew  in  the  end  Paul  would 
confide  in  him,  and  the  sable-skinned  fellow  patient- 
ly awaited  the  other's  pleasure. 

Supper  over,  Graydon  sauntered  out-of-doors,  for 
a  breath  of  cool  air ;  for  the  heat  indoors  was  stifling. 
As  he  reached  the  middle  of  the  courtyard,  a  young 
woman  ran  up  to  him  and,  with  a  cry  of  —  "  Oh,  my 
Paul !  "  —  threw  her  arms  around  him.  It  was 
Marie ;  and  she  was  trembling  with  excitement. 


208  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  What  is  it,  dear  ?  "  Paul  inquired,  as  he  held  her 
from  him  and  peered  into  her  upturned  face.  In  the 
darkness  that  walled  them  in  he  could  not  see  her 
features  distinctly,  but  he  felt  the  heaving  of  her 
chest  as  his  hands  rested  upon  her  shoulders. 

"  I'm  so  —  so  surprised,  so  frightened !  "  she 
panted. 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it,"  he  said  gently,  as  he  led 
her  toward  the  door  of  the  blockhouse. 

They  seated  themselves  upon  the  sill,  and  Marie 
began: 

"  I  went  down  to  Colonel  Sproat's  to  get  some 
blackberry  wine  for  the  sick  child  —  " 

"  Is  she  very  ill  ?  "  he  interrupted. 

"  Very  ill  —  I  don't  think  she  will  last  until  morn- 
ing. The  doctor  says  she  will  go  with  the  turn  of 
the  night.  Poor  Louise !  She's  almost  prostrated. 
But,  as  I  was  saying,  I  went  to  Colonel's  Sproat's  for 
wine.  Coming  back,  I  met  someone  in  the  narrow 
path.  It  was  a  woman.  I  could  distinguish  her 
form,  but  not  her  features.  I  stepped  to  one  side 
and,  as  I  did  so,  wished  her  good  evening.  She 
paused  abruptly,  and  —  oh,  Paul !  she  caught  me  by 
the  arm,  and  shaking  me,  hissed  in  my  ear :  '  You've 
won  him  with  your  milk-and-water  beauty!  Make 
the  most  of  your  conquest  while  you  may;  you 
shall  not  live  long  to  enjoy  your  triumph  over  me !  " 
And,  Paul  —  my  Paul,  it  was  your  cousin,  Hester 
Lovelace ! " 

Marie  hid  her  face  and  shuddered.     He  tenderly 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R  209 

caressed  her,  as  he  replied  with  an  assurance  he  did 
not  feel : 

"  Yes  —  yes ;  I  know  Hester  is  here.  I've  seen 
her  and  talked  to  her.  She  came  to  bear  me  a 
message  from  her  mother,  who  died  shortly  after  my 
departure.  True,  she  is  very  angry  that  I  won't  go 
back  with  her  —  " 

"  And  marry  her  ?  "  Marie  asked  without  raising 
her  head. 

"  Yes,  and  marry  her.  But  her  anger  is  impotent. 
We'll  shun  her  on  all  occasions,  and  thus  rob  her 
of  all  chance  to  do  or  say  aught  to  harm  us.  I 
doubt  not  that  she  would  gladly  separate  us  ;  but  that 
she  cannot  do.  No,  dear  one,  you've  no  cause  for 
alarm.  My  cousin  will  weary  of  the  privations  and 
hardships  of  the  settlement  soon,  and  return." 

She  raised  her  gold-crowned  head : 

"  You  are  so  wise  and  good,  Paul,"  she  mur- 
mured ;  "  you  know  so  well  how  to  soothe  and  com- 
fort me."  Then  with  a  little  shudder :  "  Yet  I 
never  can  rest  easy  until  your  cousin  has  left  us  to 
ourselves.  I  fear  she'll  plot  evil  against  us.  But  I 
must  return  to  poor  Louise.  I  pity  her  so  —  death 
is  an  awful  thing !  And  Louise  is  both  mother  and 
sister  to  the  sick  child.  Good  night." 

He  held  her  for  a  moment,  while  he  asked : 

"  Did  you  see  where  Hester  went  when  she  left 
you?" 

"  She  followed  me  a  short  distance,  then  turned 
off  toward  the  bank  of  the  river." 

u 


210  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R 

Marie  flitted  away  toward  the  quarters  of  Gov- 
ernor St.  Clair,  while  Paul  sat  in  the  doorway 
where  she  had  left  him,  pondering  deeply.  It  was 
evident  to  him  that  his  cousin  was  almost  mad 
with  rage  and  disappointment ;  and  he  was  greatly 
concerned.  Could  he  have  seen  her  at  that  moment, 
he  would  have  been  dumb  with  surprise  and  horror. 

When  Hester  Lovelace  abandoned  the  pursuit  of 
Marie,  she  made  her  way,  sullen  and  reckless,  to 
the  bank  of  the  Muskingum,  and,  like  a  caged 
tigress,  paced  up  and  down,  biting  her  pale  lips 
and  muttering  to  herself.  For  the  time  she  was 
irresponsible.  Over  and  over  the  one  word  —  "  re- 
venge "  — throbbed  through  her  brain.  With  every 
heart-beat  she  seemed  to  feel  —  "revenge!  re- 
venge !  "  She  had  eaten  no  supper,  and  was  weak 
from  fasting  and  fatigue ;  but  she  did  not  realize  it. 

"I  believe  I'm  going  mad!"  she  cried  at  last, 
stopping  suddenly  and  pressing  her  palms  to  her 
throbbing  temples.  "  Oh,  Paul  Graydon !  I  shall 
be  ready  and  anxious  to  die,  when  I've  made  you 
suffer  as  I  do  this  night !  " 

The  moon  was  rising.  A  shadowy  figure  moved 
forward  and  found  a  hiding  place  behind  a  huge 
tree  trunk ;  but  Hester  did  not  see  it. 

"  Hates  Paul  Graydon  and  wants  to  make  him 
suffer,  eh  ?  "  a  voice  said  in  a  whisper  as  faint  as 
the  breath  of  the  evening  breeze. 

The  moon  suddenly  sprang  above  the  low-lying 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  211 

cloud  bank  on  the  horizon ;  and  quickly  the  shadow 
resolved  itself  into  the  form  of  Red  Wallace. 

"Who  can  she  be?"  he  asked  as  he  watched 
the  lithe  figure  pacing  up  and  down,  in  the  moon- 
light. "  I  believe  I'll  speak  to  her." 

He  stepped  from  behind  the  tree  trunk,  into 
the  full  light  of  the  moon.  Hester  did  not  appear 
to  be  aware  of  his  presence,  although  he  stood  di- 
rectly in  her  path.  Not  until  he  spoke  did  she  give 
him  the  slightest  notice. 

"  Hello,  my  pretty  jade !  "  he  cried  with  bold  fa- 
miliarity. "  You're  out  walking  late.  Don't  you 
want  some  one  to  keep  you  company  ?  " 

"  Sir !  "  she  cried,  starting  back  in  alarm. 

"  Hoity-toity !  "  he  laughed.  "  I'm  not  going  to 
eat  you  up.  Don't  be  scared  at  my  rough  way  of 
speaking — I'm  as  gentle  as  a  cooing  dove.  I  find 
you  in  trouble ;  perhaps  I  can  help  you,  if  you'll 
tell  me  all  about  it." 

"  Sir !  "  And  Hester  made  a  move  to  turn  and 
leave  him.  "  I'm  not  desirous  of  your  company ; 
and  I'm  not  in  the  habit  of  confiding  my  troubles  to 
strangers." 

Again  Red  Wallace  laughed ;  this  time  sneeringly. 

"  Not  in  the  habit  of  confiding  to  strangers,  eh !  " 
he  said.  "  Well,  you  were  sowing  your  secrets 
broadcast  just  now.  The  passing  wind  may  carry 
them  to  other  ears  —  Mr.  Paul  Graydon's,  for  in- 
stance." 


212  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  They  can  tell  him  no  more  than  I've  already 
told  him,"  she  replied,  in  a  hard,  cold  voice. 

"  Look  here,  my  young  woman !  "  Wallace  said, 
coming  close  to  her  and  laying  his  hand  upon  her 
arm.  "  I've  good  reason  to  hate  this  young  man, 
Graydon ;  so've  you.  Tell  me  what  you  want  done, 
and  I'll  do  it.  What  do  you  say  ?  " 

She  shook  off  his  arm,  but  did  not  leave  him. 
Instead,  she  turned  upon  him  with  flashing  eyes, 
crying : 

"If  you'll  do  what  I  want  done,  you  shall  be 
well  paid.  Now !  " 

"  Sh !  "  he  whispered  warningly,  placing  his  finger 
upon  his  lips  and  glancing  apprehensively  around. 
"  Not  so  loud ;  there  may  be  listeners.  What  do  you 
want  done?  " 

"  I  want  —  but  how  do  I  know  you'll  do  it  ?  How 
do  I  know  you  won't  report  to  the  authorities  what 
I  say?" 

"  Let's  understand  each  other,"  Wallace  answered 
with  an  evil  smile  that  Hester  did  not  see.  "  My 
name  is  Wallace  —  Red  Wallace  they  call  me. 
Paul  Graydon  gave  me  a  drubbing;  I  hate  him. 
What's  your  name?" 

"  Hester  Lovelace." 

"  Do  you  live  here  ?  " 

"  I'm  staying  here." 

"  I  understand  —  and  Graydon  ?  " 

"  Is  my  cousin. 

"And  has  jilted  you  —  " 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  213 

"Sir!" 

It  was  an  open  insult.  There  had  been  times 
when  she  would  have  left  him  —  but  now  her  nobler 
instincts  were  subjugated  to  her  overmastering  de- 
sire for  revenge.  The  one  word  was  her  only 
protest. 

"Don't  get  on  your  high  horse!"  Wallace  re- 
turned. He  knew  he  was  gaining  the  ascendency, 
and  he  chuckled  inwardly. 

"  Go  on,  now  —  tell  me  what  you  want  done ;  and 
I'll  strike  a  bargain  with  you.  Do  you  want  him 
killed?" 

"  No,  not  that !     I  want  him  to  suffer." 

"How?" 

"  As  I  have  suffered  —  as  I  suffer  now." 

"  Then  there's  somebody  else  you  want  re- 
moved ?  " 

"  Yes  —  yes !  "  Hester  replied,  eagerly. 

"  Who  —  what's  her  name?  " 

He  was  reading  her  mind,  apparently,  as  one 
reads  a  printed  page. 

"  Marie  Fontanelle,"  was  the  reply. 

She  knew  that  she  ought  not  to  answer  his  ques- 
tions; and  she  wondered  at  her  folly.  Yet  she 
felt  that  she  must  obey  him.  What  eerie  power  was 
he  exercising  over  her?  Like  one  in  a  dream  she 
heard  him  saying: 

"  I  don't  know  her." 

"  She  is  Isaac  Meeks'  niece,"  she  answered,  me- 
chanically. 


214  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  Ah !    And  you  want  her  removed?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  That  you  may  have  him  to  yourself  ?  " 

"  That  I  may  see  him  writhe  in  anguish !  " 

"  But  you  love  Paul  Graydon  ?  " 

"  My  love  has  changed  to  hate." 

"  W-e-11,"  he  said,  slowly,  "I'll  think  over  the  mat- 
ter. I  think  it  can  be  done  —  but  it's  a  risky  piece 
of  work.  Listen!  You're  to  meet  me  at  this  spot 
one  week  from  tonight.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Very  well.     Go  to  your  home  at  once." 

Without  a  word,  she  did  as  he  directed.  He 
watched  her  receding  form  and  listened  to  her  soft 
footfalls  until  she  was  lost  to  sight  and  hearing. 
Then  he  strode  up  the  river,  muttering  to  himself: 

"  Rich  and  beautiful  —  and  in  my  power !  Old 
George  Lovelace's  daughter,  I'll  bet  a  pound  of  pow- 
der! What  changes  time  does  bring!  Listening 
to  her  well-modulated  tones,  enjoying  her  refined 
presence,  I  could  imagine  myself  back  among  the 
fair  maids  and  stately  dames  of  old  Virginia. 
Pshaw !  I'm  a  fool !  What  has  an  outlaw,  a  rene- 
gade, to  do  with  such  things?  I  wonder  if  her 
father's  still  living;  I've  an  old  score  to  settle  with 
him !  "  —  A  fierce  scowl  darkened  his  sensual  face. 
— "  Some  member  of  the  family  shall  pay  the 
debt  —  as  well  the  daughter  as  anyone.  All  things 
come  to  him  who  waits !  " 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  215 

As  he  disappeared  among  the  shadows  cast  by  the 
giant  trees,  another  figure  emerged  from  the  wil- 
lows along  the  shore,  and  followed  him.  It  was  the 
Shawnee. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

IN  THE  gray  of  the  morning-,  Paul  and  Gumbo 
were  awakened  by  a  knock  at  their  door.     As 
Gumbo  opened   it,   Silverheels,   unbidden,   stepped 
over  the  threshold  and  seated  himself  on  a  stool  by 
the  fireless  hearth. 

Paul  leaped  from  his  couch  and,  hurriedly  throw- 
ing on  his  clothes,  sought  the  Indian's  side,  saying : 

"  I  can  tell  from  the  look  upon  my  red  brother's 
face,  that  he  brings  news." 

"  Ugh !  " —  the  Shawnee  grunted ;  but  he  kept  his 
eye  upon  Gumbo,  and  was  silent. 

"  Gumbo,  you  may  go  and  feed  the  horses,"  said 
Paul.  "  I'll  kindle  the  fire  for  breakfast." 

The  obedient  black  took  up  his  hat  and  left  the 
room.  For  fully  a  minute  the  Indian  kept  a  moody 
silence.  It  seemed  an  age  to  Paul,  who  felt  his 
companion  had  something  of  grave  importance  to 
communicate.  Pointing  to  his  torn  and  soiled  moc- 
casins and  dew-wet  leggins,  Silverheels  began : 

"  Since  the  rising  of  the  moon,  I  have  traveled 
far  on  the  trail  of  the  Red  Fox.  Now  I  am  here." 

"  The  Red  Fox?  "  Paul  queried. 

"  Yes,  the  Red  Fox  that  sought  to  cripple  the 
wings  of  White  Eagle." 

(2IC) 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  217 

"You  mean  Red  Wallace?" 

"  Ugh !  He  has  left  the  lodges  of  the  palefaces 
and  gone  to  his  den  in  the  woods." 

"  Why  did  you  follow  him?  " 

"  To  find  his  den." 

"  Did  you  succeed  ?  " 

The  Indian  nodded  his  head  in  the  affirmative. 

"Where  is  it?" 

"  Far  up  the  Moose  Eye,  in  the  rocks." 

"  Then  he  does  not  live  among  the  Delawares." 

"  The  Red  Fox  may  have  more  than  one  den,"  Sil- 
verheels  replied.  "  He  comes  and  goes  —  he  is  very 
cunning  —  he  is  hard  to  trail." 

"I'm  glad  he  has  left  the  settlement,  at  any 
rate,"  Paul  said  musingly. 

Hester's  wild  threats  had  made  her  cousin  ner- 
vous, and  apprehensive  for  the  safety  of  Marie. 

"  Ere  he  left  the  village  of  the  white  men/'  Sil- 
verheels  resumed,  "  Red  Fox  talked  long  with  the 
tall  young  woman  that  yesterday  shook  the  hand  of 
White  Eagle." 

Paul  sprung  to  his  feet,  surprise  and  incredulity 
upon  his  countenance. 

"  With  whom  did  he  talk  ?  "  he  cried. 

"  With  the  tall  young  woman  that  has  hair  as 
black  as  the  crow's  wing." 

"  Hester!  "  the  young  man  ejaculated. 

"Ugh!  She  is  a  she  wolf  —  she  snarls  and 
bites." 

"  It  cannot  be  —  you  must  be  mistaken !  " 


2i8  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

The  Shawnee  shook  his  head. 

"  Where  did  you  see  them  ?  " 

Silverheels  jerked  his  thumb  in  the  direction  of 
the  Muskingum,  but  maintained  a  stolid  silence. 

"  When  was  it  ?  " 

"  Last  night  —  when  the  moon  shone  big  and 
round  above  the  treetops." 

"When  the  moon  was  rising?" 

"Ugh!" 

"  Of  what  did  they  talk  ?  "  And  Paul  anxiously 
awaited  the  reply. 

"  Of  White  Eagle  and  the  blue-eyed  maiden." 

The  young  Englishman  drew  his  breath  spasmodi- 
cally— "  And  what  did  they  say  ?  " 

The  Indian  arose,  as  he  answered :  "  Silver- 
heels  can  hear  the  steps  of  the  fur-footed 
hare,  but  he  cannot  hear  the  sounds  of  moonbeams 
striking  the  earth.  The  voices  of  Red  Fox  and 
She  Wolf  were  softer  than  the  whisper  of  rippling 
waters.  Silverheels  could  not  hear  all  that  they  said. 
But  they  plotted  harm  to  the  blue-eyed  maiden. 
Let  White  Eagle  open  wide  his  eyes  and  ears  —  let 
him  beware." 

He  shouldered  his  rifle  and  started  toward  the 
door ;  but  Paul  arrested  his  progress  by  asking : 

"Where  now?" 

'  The  woods  and  streams  await  my  coming,"  was 
the  reply ;  "  I  go." 

He  crossed  the  threshold,  passed  through  the 
western  gate  of  the  fortress,  and  was  gone.  When 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  219 

Gumbo  came  in  from  the  stables,  Paul  was  stand- 
ing where  the  Shawnee  had  left  him. 

"  Marse  Glair's  little  gal's  dead,"  said  the  darky, 
as  he  knelt  and  began  to  build  a  fire. 

"  I  am  not  surprised,"  Graydon  returned,  as  he 
dropped  upon  a  stool. 

He  did  not  change  his  position,  but  sat  gazing  out 
of  the  open  door  while  Gumbo  busied  himself  with 
their  morning  meal. 

"  Break  fas'  is  ready,  Marse  Paul,"  Gumbo  said, 
after  the  lapse  of  a  half  hour. 

Graydon  did  not  stir. 

The  negro  shook  his  head,  muttering  under  his 
breath : 

"  Wish  dat  Injin  debil  'Id  aggregate  hisse'f  clean 
outen  dis  curriculum,  an'  stay  out  —  I  does ;  kase 
eb'ry  time  he  comes  dar's  no  end  ob  trouble.  Marse 
Paul  wa'n't  feelin'  berry  well,  nohow ;  an'  sence  dat 
Shawnee's  come  insinuatin'  'round  dis  mornin',  he's 
done  los'  all  interes'  an'  principal  in  co'n  pone  an' 
venison."  Then  in  a  louder  tone :  "  Marse  Paul, 
doesn't  you  want  to  partook  ob  yo'  breakfas'  ?  " 

"  What  did  you  say  ?"  Paul  asked,  as  he  faced  his 
black  friend. 

"  Breakfas'  's  ready." 

Paul  arose  and  joined  Gumbo  at  the  table.  Scarce- 
ly were  they  seated  when  Gumbo  began : 

"  Marse  Paul,  dar's  somefin'  discommodin'  de  life 
outen  you  —  dar  is.  Ain't  you  gwine  to  tell  ol'  Gum- 
bo w'at  it  am?" 


220  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  I  am  greatly  worried  —  that's  true,"  Paul  re- 
plied. "  Hester,  my  cousin,  is  here  —  " 

"  Wat's  dat  ?  "  cried  the  negro. 

"  Hester  is  here." 

"  Gumbo  rolled  his  eyes  until  nothing  but  the 
whites  were  visible,  and  said  with  great  solem- 
nity: 

"  Am  dat  so !  Den  dar's  mischief  brewin',  sure 
'nough.  Wen  did  she  come  ?  " 

"  Yesterday." 

"  Wat's  she  gallivantin'  roun'  de  settlement  fo'  ?  " 

"  She  wants  me  to  return  to  Virginia  with  her. 
Aunt  Caroline  is  dead  —  " 

"  Is  de  ol'  missus  dead  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  and  Hester  wishes  me  to  return  to  Vir- 
ginia, and  share  the  estate  with  her." 

"  Is  you  gwine,  Marse  Paul?  " 

"  No." 

"  Did  you  tell  Miss  Hester  dat  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  she  is  very  angry." 

"  She  come  clar  out  to  dis  wild  an'  solitudinous 
country  to  git  you  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Marse  Paul,  she  wants  you  to  marry  'er." 

Paul  nodded. 

"  Did  she  p'opose  to  you  ?  " 

"  You  might  call  it  that  —  yes." 

"Den,  Marse  Paul,  de  debil's  to  pay  —  an,'  Injin 
debil  at  dat!  Miss  Hester's  jes  like  de  ol'  missus 
—  w'ateber  she  sets  'er  head  an'  heart  on,  dat  she's 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  221 

gwine  to  hab.  You's  'nsulted  'er,  Marse  Paul,  by 
'fusin'  to  marry  'er;  an'  she'll  neber  fo'gib  you. 
She'll  foller  you  to  de  ends  ob  de  worl'  to  to'ment 
you.  You  got  to  watch  'er,  Marse  Paul  —  you  got 
to  watch  'er ;  'deed  an'  dat's  a  fack !  " 

Gumbo  realized  as  fully  as  did  Paul  the  vindic- 
tiveness  of  which  Hester  was  capable.  He  gravely 
shook  his  head,  as  he  reached  for  another  piece  of 
steaming  corn  pone,  and  continued : 

"  She'll  be  up  to  some  debilment  in  less  dan  two 
days  —  can't  fool  dis  nigger!  He  knowed  de  ol' 
missus  an'  he  knows  de  young  missus.  'Spect  she'll 
try  to  hurt  'r  skeer  de  little  gal  jes  to  worry  you, 
Marse  Paul.  I'd  be  right  down  discriminatin'  glad 
if  she'd  shake  de  dust  ob  de  settlement  ofF'n  'er 
shoes  fo'  good  —  I  would,  Marse  Paul." 

"  She  has  begun  already,"  Paul  answered,  as  he 
pushed  back  his  stool.  "  And  whom  do  you  think 
she  has  chosen  for  an  accomplice  ?  " 

"  Hasn't  de  least  idee,  Marse  Paul." 

"  Red  Wallace." 

"Wat!" 

"  It's  true." —  And  Paul  told  what  Silverheels 
had  seen  and  heard. 

The  negro  had  not  finished  his  breakfast ;  but  now 
his  appetite  failed  him.  He  sat  in  silence  for  some 
moments.  At  last  he  said  : 

"  Dar  isn't  no  use  talkin',  dar's  gwine  to  be 
trouble  an'  lots  ob  it.  Wen  a  woman  stoops  to  de 
lebel  ob  a  white  Injin  —  den  watch  out !  She's  des- 


222  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

per't  —  dat's  wa't  —  she's  desper't;  an'  dar  ain't 
nuffin'  she  won't  try  to  do  to  git  vengeance." 

Then  his  face  lighted  up. 

"  Marse  Paul,  didnt'  you  say  somefin'  one  day 
'bout  movin'  up  de  'Skingum  —  you  an'  Isaac  an' 
some  mo'  people  ?  " 

"  I  spoke  of  entering  land  up  there  and  founding 
a  settlement.  Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  Den  de  sooner  you  does  it  de  better.  Git  de 
little  gal  'way  from  here  —  maybe  Miss  Hester 
wouldn't  foller  you.  'Spect  she  gib  up  an'  go  back 
to  ol'  Virginny.  You  can  fight  In j  ins  an'  bars, 
Marse  Paul,  but  you  can't  fight  a  mad  woman  no- 
how—  you  jes  got  to  run  off  an'  leabe  'er." 

"  You  may  be  right,  Gumbo,"  Paul  answered. 
"  I'll  see  Meeks  and  the  others  at  once.  If  we're 
going,  we  should  go  soon.  In  the  meantime,  I  want 
you  to  aid  me  in  guarding  Marie." 

"All  right,  Marse  Paul !"  the  darky  returned  right 
cheerfully.  "  Dis  nigger  '11  do  his  lebel  bes'  to  keep 
de  purty  little  gal  all  safe  an'  soun'  —  you  can  done 
count  on  ol'  Gumbo." 

Paul  went  at  once  to  Isaac  Meeks'  cabin.  He 
found  that  worthy  seated  on  his  doorstep,  smoking 
his  corncob  pipe  in  evident  contentment,  and  tender- 
ly caressing  the  pendulous  ears  of  a  lank  hound 
pup  that  rested  its  head  upon  his  knee.  Graydon 
apprised  his  hunter  friend  of  Hester's  presence, 
and  told  him  of  Gumbo's  suggestion  in  regard  to 
the  new  settlement.  Nancy,  overhearing  Paul,  came 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  223 

and  listened  to  all  that  was  said.  When  the  young 
man  had  finished,  Isaac  remarked: 

"  Guess  the  nigger's  'bout  right ;  we  ought  to 
have  the  settlement  well  started  'fore  winter  sets 
in,  anyhow.  We  can  enter  land  at  any  time  now ; 
an'  there'  ain't  no  need  o'  waitin'.  What  do  you 
think  o'  that  big  bottom  the  Shawnee  p'inted  out, 
Mister  Paul  ?  " 

"  The  very  place  I  had  in  mind ;  and  we'll  call 
our  colony  — '  Big  Bottom.'  " 

"  Well,  le's  hunt  up  John  Stacey  an'  young  Put- 
nam an'  the  Choate  boys,  an'  start  the  ball  a-rollin' 
to  once.  It'll  take  us  several  weeks  to  gether  up 
things  an'  git  ready  to  go.  Le's  mosey  down  to  Col- 
onel Stacey's,  an'  see  if  John's  to  home." 

As  they  arose  to  go,  Nancy  —  who  until  that  mo- 
ment had  preserved  an  unwonted  silence  —  said  : 

"  Git  things  ready  as  soon  as  you  can ;  an'  le's  clear 
out  o'  here.  Course  it  looks  kind  o'  little  to  run 
away  from  an  enemy  —  an'  that  enemy  a  woman ; 
but  I  s'pose  there's  nothin'  else  to  do.  She  couldn't 
harm  anybody,  likely;  but  she'll  keep  us  all  in  hot 
water  as  long  as  we're  in  the  same  neighborhood. 
Confound  'er !  I  wish  she'd  staid  to  home  an'  not 
come  traipsin'  out  here.  Anyhow,  I'm  anxious  to 
git  a  piece  o'  land  we  can  call  our  own.  If 
she  comes  pesterin'  'round  Big  Bottom  —  as  Mr. 
Paul  calls  it  —  she'll  find  me  into  'er  wool.  She 
won't  do  nothin'  o'  the  kind,  though ;  'cause  ther' 
won't  be  no  place  fer  'er  to  stay.  We'll  be  well  red 


224  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

of  'er  —  an'  glad  of  it.  She'll  git  discouraged  an' 
go  back  to  Virginny." 

"  I  hope  so,"  was  all  the  reply  Paul  made,  as  he 
and  Isaac  moved  away. 

The  two  men  sought  the  other  members-  of  the 
association.  All  were  made  to  understand  the  ne- 
cessity of  haste,  if  they  were  to  be  well  established  in 
their  new  home,  ere  the  advent  of  cold  weather. 
Each  man  promised  to  do  everything  that  lay  in  his 
power  to  further  the  preparations  for  departure.  It 
was  with  a  much  lighter  heart  that  Paul  left  the  oth- 
ers, and  accompanied  by  John  Stacey,  walked  down 
to  the  Ohio  shore  to  look  at  a  barge  the  company 
purposed  to  buy  of  Commodore  Whipple. 

As  the  two  young  men  descended  the  gentle  slope 
to  the  water's  edge,  a  disgusting  sight  met  their 
gaze.  A  party  of  men  —  among  whom  were  a  num- 
ber of  soldiers  from  Fort  Harmer  —  acting  on  the 
theory  that  "  the  hair  of  the  dog  cures  the  bite," 
were  dissipating  the  effect  of  the  previous  day's  po- 
tations, by  indulging  in  another  carouse.  With 
hoarse  shouts  and  ribald  jests,  they  staggered 
around  a  prostrate  man ;  and,  thrusting  their  flasks 
under  his  nose,  attempted  to  make  him  drink.  The 
man  upon  the  ground  was  Silverheels  ! 

When  Graydon  and  Stacey  made  the  discovery 
that  it  was  their  red  friend,  they  rushed  upon  the 
tipsy  rowdies  and  flung  them  right  and  left.  Bend- 
ing down,  they  cut  the  thongs  that  bound  the  In- 
dian's limbs,  and  assisted  him  to  his  feet.  He  was 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  225 

bleeding  freely  from  a  wound  upon  the  temple; 
and  his  lips  were  bruised  and  swollen  from  the 
impact  of  the  flasks  that  had  been  jammed  against 
them.  His  handsome  features  were  drawn  into  a 
scowl  of  rage ;  and  his  eyes  had  in  them  the  frenzy 
of  a  goaded  beast.  He  spoke  no  word,  as  he  folded 
his  arms  upon  his  broad  chest  and  faced  his  tormen- 
tors ;  but  his  silence  spoke  volumes  more  than  any 
outburst  of  passion  could  have  expressed. 

"  What's  the  meaning  of  this  outrage?  "  Graydon 
thundered,  his  voice  choked  with  passion. 

The  hangdog  inebriates  —  leering  and  chuckling 
in  maudlin  fashion  —  commenced  a  hasty  and  con- 
fused retreat ;  but  Stacey  springing  in  front  of  them 
cried  authoritatively : 

"  Stop  —  every  one  of  you !  If  you  don't  give 
a  satisfactory  explanation  of  this  shameful  affair, 
I'll  report  it  to  Governor  St.  Clair  and  General  Put- 
nam." 

Awed  and  half-sobered  by  the  young  settler's 
threat,  the  men  halted  in  indecision.  One  of  their 
number,  a  middle-aged  soldier  from  the  fort,  hum- 
bly doffed  his  hat  and  said : 

"  We  didn't  mean  any  harm  (hie),  Mis'r  Stacey 
Graydon  —  'r  Graydon  Stacey.  The  Injin  refused 
to  drink  with  us  —  that's  all.  Course  we  (hie) 
couldn't  stand  that.  So  when  he  went  to  get  into 
his  canoe  we  —  we  j-jumped  on  to  him,  and  tried  to 
make  him  dr-drink.  He  showed  fight  so  we  had  to 
(hie)  throw  him  down  and  tie  him.  He  fought  like 
15 


226  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

a  wildcat  —  Look  at  this  eye !  And  see  Fletcher's 
nose!  Doc  True  '11  have  to  straighten  it  up,  'r-'r 
(hie)  Fletcher  won't  ever  be  fit  to  call  on  the  ladies. 
But  we  were  too  many  fer  the  redskin,  Mis'r  Stady 
Grayson  —  and  we  tied  him  —  and  tried  to  make 
him  drink ;  but  he  sp-spit  the  good  liquor  out  and  — 
and  (hie)  that's  all  there  was  of  it.  'Spect  old 
Copperheels  '11  never  forgive  us.  His  gun's  in  the 
bottom  of  his  canoe  —  he'd  just  laid  it  (hie)  in 
there  when  we  —  we  j-jumped  onto  him." 

Paul  approached  the  rowdies  and  said  fiercely : 

"  For  shame !  And  you  call  yourselves  civilized 
beings  !  Begone  —  each  man  to  his  quarters !  And 
consider  yourselves  lucky  if  this  doesn't  come  to 
the  ears  of  the  governor.  Go!  Sleep  off  your 
drunken  debauch  and  resolve  to  be  men ;  today  you 
are  brutes ! " 

The  men,  with  many  backward  glances  and  im- 
precations, staggered  up  the  slope  and  disappeared. 
When  the  last  one  was  out  of  sight,  Paul  turned  to 
Silverheels,  and,  taking  his  hand,  said  brokenly : 

"  My  red  brother,  I  have  not  words  to  ex- 
press my  regret  and  sorrow  at  the  wanton  insult 
you  have  received.  This  is  the  second  time  you 
have  been  made  to  feel  that  there  are  those  in  the 
colony,  who  have  forgotten  the  true  meaning  of 
gratitude  and  respect.  Nothing  that  I  can  say 
will  change  the  case.  You  have  been  overcome  by 
brute  force  and  numbers,  and  subjected  to  humili- 
ating abuse.  I  blush  for  my  people  —  but  I  can 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  227 

offer  no  excuse  for  their  conduct ;  all  that  I  can  do 
is  to  again  assure  you  that  you  have  my  sincerest 
friendship  —  as,  also,  you  have  that  of  many  others 
in  the  settlement.  Stacey  and  I  will  stand  by  you 
to  the  death." 

"  Yes,  indeed !  "  Stacey  replied  earnestly.  "  We 
are  your  friends  in  the  fullest  meaning  of  the 
sacred  word." 

Silverheels  passed  his  free  hand  over  his  bruised 
lips,  and  muttered  in  hoarse  accents : 

"  The  Shawnee  knows  his  friend  —  and  he  knows 
his  enemy.  The  one  he  loves  —  the  other  he  hates ! 
Many  times  he  has  befriended  the  whites.  Today 
he  has  received  his  reward.  He  will  not  forget !  The 
pack  of  howling  wolves  may  overcome  the  buffalo 
when  he  is  off  his  guard.  But  when  he  rises  he 
flings  them  off  and  tramples  them  to  death,  one 
by  one.  The  Shawnee  will  not  forget !  His  face  is 
stained  with  blood.  It  shall  be  washed  away  in 
the  blood  of  his  enemies.  His  lips  are  bruised ;  the 
lips  of  his  foes  shall  be  silenced  forever.  The 
Shawnee  will  not  forget ! " 

John  and  Paul  looked  at  each  other  in  painful 
silence.  Each  fully  understood  the  Indian's  mean- 
ing. Both  realized  that  the  act  of  the  drunken 
rowdies  had  changed  the  red  hunter's  secret  friend- 
ship for  the  colonists,  to  open  enmity. 

As  though  communing  with  himself,  Silverheels 
continued : 

"  Many,  many  moons  ago,  the  Shawnee  dwelt 


228  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

among  the  palefaces.  He  said  to  himself :  '  The 
white  blood  in  my  veins  will  make  of  me  a  white 
man.  I  will  learn  their  ways  —  I  will  wear  their 
dress  —  I  will  be  one  of  them.'  He  learned  their 
ways,  he  wore  their  dress  —  but  he  was  not  one  of 
them.  He  spoke  their  tongue,  he  read  in  their 
books,  he  wrote  his  name;  but  he  was  not  a  white 
man.  They  scorned  and  despised  him.  He  loved 
a  paleface  maiden;  she  laughed  at  him  and  told 
him  to  go  to  the  lodges  of  the  Shawnees  for  a  wife. 
In  his  disappointment  he  drank  of  the  fiery  rum 
the  palefaces  held  to  his  lips.  He  drank  until  his 
eyes  were  dim  and  his  hand  was  unsteady;  until 
his  steps  were  uncertain  and  his  aim  was  untrue. 
His  head  ached  and  his  limbs  trembled.  He  said, 
'  I  will  drink  no  more ;'  but  '  more  —  more  ' —  was 
the  echo  that  rang  in  his  ears.  He  left  the  villages 
of  the  palefaces  —  but  he  could  not  return  to  the 
redmen.  He  was  an  outcast  —  but  he  was  a  Shaw- 
nee.  For  years  he  has  lived  alone.  The  sun  is  his 
father,  the  moon  is  his  mother;  the  trees  and  rocks 
are  his  brothers  and  sisters.  Today  the  palefaces 
again  tempted  him  to  drink  rum  —  but  he  would 
not.  They  bore  him  to  the  earth  and  held  the  fire- 
water to  his  lips;  its  fragrant  breath  was  sweet  in 
his  nostrils  —  but  he  did  not  drink.  They  bound 
him  with  thongs  and  kicked  him.  The  Shawnee 
will  not  forget !  " 
Then  taking  Stacey's  hand  and  retaining  his  grasp 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  229 

upon  Paul's,  he  looked  at  the  two  young  men  for 
a  few  moments  and  resumed: 

"  White  Eagle,  Silverheels  has  learned  to  love  you 
and  your  friend.  He  thought  to  visit  the  village  of 
the  palefaces  often,  that  he  might  be  near  you.  But 
the  God  of  the  white  men  wills  it  otherwise;  he 
has  turned  his  back  upon  the  Shawnee.  Silverheels 
will  return  to  his  lonely  lodge.  No  more  will  he 
enter  the  village  of  his  enemies.  He  will  live  for 
revenge ;  the  palefaces  shall  feel  the  strength  of  his 
strong  right  arm.  Farewell  1  " 

"  Surely,"  Graydon  cried  in  surprise,  "  you  will 
not  harm  those  that  have  been  kind  to  you  ?  " 

"The  Shawnee  knows  his  friends  —  he  will  not 
mistake  them  for  enemies  !  " 

Without  another  word,  he  sprang  into  his  canoe 
and  paddled  away. 


CHAPTER   XX 

THE  following  day,  Governor  St.  Clair's  little 
daughter  was  laid  to  rest  in  the  clearing  con- 
taining the  large  mound  of  the  mound-builders. 
This  plot  of  ground  is  today  known  as  the  Mound 
Cemetery,  and  contains  the  graves  of  many  pioneers. 
At  this  time  Governor  St.  Clair's  wife  and  son  were 
at  the  old  home  in  Pennsylvania.  He  and  his  two 
remaining  daughters  had  to  bear  their  sorrow  alone. 
Through  it  all,  Marie  had  been  an  ever-ready  sup- 
port and  comfort  to  her  friend.  As  they  walked 
home  from  the  funeral,  Louise  said  feelingly : 

"  What  should  I  have  done  without  you,  Marie  ? 
You've  been  so  kind  to  me,  and  I  —  I  didn't  deserve 
it!  I  —  " 

Her  voice  choked  and  she  could  say  no  more. 
Marie  slipped  an  arm  around  the  waist  of  her 
friend,  and,  lovingly  kissing  her  tear-stained  cheek, 
replied  consolingly : 

"  Don't  say  another  word,  Louise ;  it  only  makes 
you  more  sorrowful.  We  understand  each  other 
and  —  " 

"  No,  you  don't  understand  all  —  you  don't  knoiv 
all !  "  Louise  interrupted  quickly.  "  Let  me  tell  you 
(230) 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  231 

—  I  must  tell  you ;  never  can  I  be  happy  again  until 
I've  made  a  full  confession!" 

"  Louise !  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  Marie  inter- 
rogated, in  mild  wonder. 

"  I  mean  that  I've  been  false  and  wicked,  Marie ! 
You'll  never  forgive  me  when  I  tell  you  —  " 

"  Louise !  "  was  all  that  Marie  could  say. 

"  It's  too  true.  When  I  came  to  you  and  pre- 
tended that  I  wanted  to  make  a  friendly  test  of 
Paul's  affection  for  you,  I  acted  a  lie !" 

Marie  stared  at  her  friend.  She  could  not  un- 
derstand what  Louise  meant.  The  others  had 
passed  on  and  left  them.  The  two  young  women 
stood  facing  each  other.  The  vagrant  breeze  ca- 
ressed Louise's  olive  cheek  and  toyed  with  Marie's 
golden  tresses,  as  though  it  could  not  tell  —  fickle 
thing  —  which  it  admired  the  more.  Louise  went 
on  mercilessly  prodding  the  iron  into  her  own  soul. 

"  Yes,  I  practiced  deceit.  I  acted  a  lie !  I 
framed  a  lie  with  my  lips !  I  loved  Paul." —  Marie 
started. — "  Do  not  shrink  from  me !  Wait  until 
you've  heard  all.  Then,  if  you  find  it  in  your 
heart  to  scorn  and  despise  me,  I  shall  have  no 
just  cause  for  complaint.  I  loved  Paul  and  I  want- 
ed to  win  him.  I  willfully  planned  to  supersede 
you.  I  —  I  —  but  I  cannot  go  on !  I  loved  him  — 
he  cared  naught  for  me.  He  was  true  as  steel  to 
you.  He  told  me  that  he  loved  you  and  meant 
to  marry  you.  I  have  been  justly  punished  —  but, 


232  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R 

oh,  none  but  God  knows  how  I've  suffered !  Marie, 
can  you  forgive  me  ?  " 

She  held  out  her  hands  with  a  pleading  gesture, 
and  bowed  her  head  in  shame.  The  French  girl 
rushed  forward,  in  her  impetuous  way,  and  throw- 
ing her  arms  around  the  neck  of  her  former  rival 
cried : 

"Of  course  I  forgive  you,  Louise!  Could  I 
blame  anyone  for  loving  my  Paul?  We  shall  be 
the  same  friends  we  have  been  in  the  past.  I 
can  afford  to  be  magnanimous  —  for  have  you  not 
proven  to  me  that  my  lover  is  a  true  and  noble 
man!" 

"  Yes,"  Louise  murmured,  almost  inaudibly, 
"  he's  a  gentleman.  I  don't  love  him  as  I  did,  Ma- 
rie; but  I  shall  respect  him  always.  Are  you  sure 
that  you  freely  and  fully  forgive  me  ?  " 

"Very  sure." 

"  But  —  but  you  cannot  forget." 

"  Don't  say  that  —  let's  never  mention  the  subject 
again  —  let's  both  strive  to  forget !  " 

Louise's  face  bespoke  a  sense  of  relief  and  com- 
fort she  had  not  known  in  days.  The  horrid  secret 
was  out ;  and  the  one  against  whom  she  had  sinned 
forgave  her. 

"  You've  been  so  good  to  me,  Marie.  But  you 
mustn't  leave  me  yet.  I  feel  very  lonely  —  so  lone- 
ly that  I  can't  spare  you.  Won't  you  make  your 
home  with  me,  for  a  time,  at  least  ?  " 

"  Do  you  desire  my  company  so  much,  Louise?  " 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  233 

"Can  you  ask?" 

"  Then,  with  Aunt  Nancy's  consent,  I  shall  be 
glad  to  stay  with  you  for  awhile.  It'll  be  very 
agreeable  to  me,  in  more  ways  than  one ;  I  shall  have 
the  pleasure  of  being  with  you,  and  I  shall  have 
more  comfortable  quarters  than  Uncle  Isaac's  over- 
crowded cabin  affords." 

In  the  evening,  Stacey  and  Graydon  came  for  a 
walk  with  the  young  ladies.  It  was  the  first  time 
for  days  that  the  two  couples  had  been  together. 
As  they  set  out,  Louise  took  John's  arm,  and  they 
led  the  way.  All  felt  somewhat  depressed  over  the 
death  of  the* child;  for  in  those  primitive  commu- 
nities like  the  Marietta  settlement,  the  simple-mind- 
ed people  felt  deeply  the  sorrows  and  joys  that  fell 
to  the  lot  of  their  friends  and  neighbors.  Little 
was  said  as  they  rambled  through  the  village  of  log 
cabins.  Low  down  on  the  western  horizon,  sheet- 
lightning  was  playing ;  and  occasionally  an  indistinct 
muttering  growl  told  that  a  thunderstorm  was  hov- 
ering there.  Frogs  croaked  along  the  dark  river 
banks,  and  fireflies  flitted  and  circled  across  the 
fields  of  waist-high  corn. 

As  the  friends  reached  the  bridge  across  Tyber 
Creek,  Hester  Lovelace  met  and  passed  them.  She 
held  her  head  high,  and  appeared  unconscious  of 
their  existence.  In  the  faint  light  of  the  gathering 
dusk,  her  features  shone  ashen  and  haggard;  and 
her  coal-black  hair,  falling  in  unconfined  masses 


234  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R 

below  her  waist,  lent  to  her  a  weird  and  uncanny 
aspect. 

Marie  shivered  and  drew  closer  to  Paul's  side". 

"  What  is  it,  dear?  "  he  asked  softly. 

"Didn't  you  see  her,  Paul  —  your  cousin?  She 
flitted  by  like  a  wraith." 

"  I  saw  her." 

Again  the  girl  shuddered. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"I  don't  know,  Paul ;  but  for  some  reason  the 
sight  of  Hester  Lovelace  inspires  in  me  a  feeling  of 
nameless  dread." 

"  Don't  be  worried ;  soon  we  shall  leave,  and  go 
where  she  cannot  follow  us.  We're  making  all  hastt 
for  our  departure." 

"  But  it  will  take  some  months  to  build  the  block- 
house and  cabins,  Paul.  You  will  be  away  from 
me  for  days  at  a  time  —  with  her  here.  I  shall  die 
of  horror !  " 

"  I  wish  you  could  stay  with  Louise  until  I  can 
make  a  home  for  you.  You  would  be  more  con- 
tent ;  and  I  should  be  better  satisfied  of  your  safe- 

ty-" 

"  She  has  invited  me." 

"  I  am  glad.  I  shall  leave  Gumbo  here  to  guard 
you.  No  harm  can  come  to  you.  Have  no  fears  — 
but  don't  venture  out  after  dark  or  alone ;  and  avoid 
5tiy  cousin." 

On  the  evening  of  the  eleventh  of  July,  a  man 
stood  in  the  shadow  of  a  large  elm  upon  the  Mari- 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R  235 

etta  bank  of  the  Muskingum.  Apparently  he  wished 
to  escape  observation;  for,  as  John  Stacey  and  a 
number  of  others  —  who  had  been  building  a  boat 
farther  up  the  river  —  passed  near  him,  he  crouched 
low  at  the  foot  of  the  tree  and  scarcely  breathed. 
When  the  men  had  passed  on,  he  arose  and  with  an 
oath  muttered  angrily : 

"  Curse  the  luck  —  curse  the  girl !  If  she  plays 
me  false  and  does  not  come,  I'll  have  her  heart's 
blood.  I'm  a  fool  to  be  here  on  such  an  errand. 
Why  is  she  so  long  in  coming  ?  Hohum !  so  she  is 
old  George  Lovelace's  daughter  —  the  child  of  the 
man  who  run  me  out  of  the  Shenandoah  valley,  be- 
cause I  was  too  fond  of  a  bit  of  good  horseflesh.  He 
had  me  in  his  power,  and  I  had  to  go  —  had  to  leave 
everything  that  I  owned  and  held  dear.  Well,  the 
wheel  of  fortune  has  made  a  turn.  Today  I've  his 
daughter  in  my  power  —  and  I'll  make  the  most  of 
my  chance !  It  would  be  nice  to  go  back  to  old 
Virginia  after  so  many  years'  absence,  as  the  hus- 
band of  George  Lovelace's  fair  daughter,  and  the 
master  of  his  vast  estate.  That  would  be  a  change 
worth  making  —  from  an  outlaw  among  savages,  to 
the  owner  of  one  of  the  finest  estates  in  the  valley 
of  the  Shenandoah.  By  the  gods !  It's  worth  risk- 
ing something  to  gain.  Hello!  here  she  comes 
now." 

But  it  was  not  Hester.  It  was  a  settler  hunting 
a  cow  that  had  strayed  from  the  enclosure  in  which 
she  was  confined  at  night.  Red  Wallace  hastily  hid 


236  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

himself  behind  the  tree-trunk,  and  waited  until 
the  solitary  colonist  had  passed  by.  Then  he  stepped 
from  his  hiding-place  and,  closely  scanning  the 
western  heavens,  muttered: 

"  There's  a  thunderstorm  coming  up,  too.  So 
much  the  better;  no  one  will  be  abroad.  I  wish 
the  white  jade  would  come!  What  can  be  keeping 
her?  I've  thought  out  the  whole  matter  during  the 
past  week.  There's  nothing  like  a  week  alone  in  the 
woods  to  sharpen  one's  wits.  She's  old  George 
Lovelace's  only  child  —  a  little  thing  of  eight  or 
ten  years,  she  was.  And  that  nigger  —  curse  him ! 
—  is  one  of  the  old  man's  slaves ;  and  Mr.  Paul 
Graydon  — "  Here  Wallace  ground  his  teeth  at 
the  recollection  of  the  young  Englishman  —  "is  a 
cousin  of  Miss  Hester's.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  I 
hate  the  family?  I've  been  put  upon  by  the  old 
man,  the  nephew,  and  the  nigger!  But  every  dog 
has  his  day ;  and  my  day's  at  hand.  Fortune,  they 
say,  knocks  but  once  at  a  man's  door.  Well,  I'll 
not  bar  her  entrance.  On  the  contrary,  I'll  take 
the  door  off  the  hinges,  bid  her  come  in,  and  give 
her  the  best  stool  in  the  cabin !  " 

He  chuckled,  and  again  glanced  at  the  darkened 
heavens. 

"  Storm's  coming  up  fast.  Whew !  what  a  flash 
and  crash!  It'll  soon  be  here.  I  feel  the  wind 
that's  under  it.  In  the  devil's  name!  Why  does- 
n't that  woman  come  ?  Hark !  Here  she  is  at  last." 

A  light  and  cautious  step  approached  his  hiding- 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  237 

place.  Nearer  it  came ;  hesitated  and  stopped.  He 
made  no  movement,  coolly  waiting  to  see  what  she 
would  do. 

"  He  hasn't  come,"  he  heard  her  complain.  "  I 
should  have  known  he  was  but  amusing  himself  — 
Oh!" 

It  was  Hester's  voice.  Her  exclamation  was  in 
answer  to  a  vivid  flash  of  lightning  that,  like  a  pol- 
ished blade,  ripped  open  the  black  curtain  of  the 
sky  and  let  through  the  first  large  drops  of  the 
coming  storm.  She  placed  her  hands  against  her 
ears  and  blindly  ran  forward,  as  a  rattling  crash 
of  thunder  followed;  and  sprang  directly  into  the 
outstretched  arms  of  Red  Wallace. 

"  Hello !  "  he  exclaimed,  as  he  folded  his  muscu- 
lar arms  around  her.  "  You  come  in  dramatic  style. 
Don't  try  to  get  free,  my  pretty  bird !  Afraid  of 
thunder  and  lightning,  eh?  Well,  I'll  protect  you 

—  you  needn't  tremble  so.     That  was  a  pretty  sharp 
flash,  though  —  enough  to  scare  anybody.     This  is 
a  romantic  sort  of  night  for  a  lover's  tryst.     There 

—  there!" 

"  Loose  me !  "  she  panted  as  she  struggled  to 
free  herself  from  his  brutal  embrace. 

"  Let  me  have  a  kiss  from  those  sweet  lips,  first," 
he  replied  as  he  bent  over  her. 

"  How  dare  you !  Loose  me  at  once !  " — And,  at 
the  words,  she  dealt  him  a  resounding  slap  upon 
the  face. 

"  You  she  devil !  "  Wallace  exclaimed  as  he  re- 


238  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

leased  his  hold  upon  her.  "  Just  wait  —  I'll  pay 
you  for  that  blow !  " 

By  this  time  the  fury  of  the  storm  was  upon 
them.  The  lightning  flashed  incessantly ;  the  thun- 
der boomed  and  rolled  ceaselessly;  and  the  rain, 
driven  by  the  stiff  gale,  descended  in  unbroken 
sheets  that,  falling  upon  the  foliage  of  the  trees, 
roared  like  a  miniature  cataract.  Hester  was  thor- 
oughly frightened  at  the  storm,  and  by  the  actions 
of  her  half-savage  companion.  A  dozen  times,  with- 
in as  many  seconds,  she  wished  she  had  not  come. 
She  would  have  attempted  to  return,  but  she  did  not 
dare  to  brave  the  fury  of  the  elements.  Red  Wal- 
lace divined  her  thoughts,  apparently,  for  after  a 
few  moments'  silence,  he  came  close  to  her  and  said 
laughingly : 

"  It's  all  right,  little  woman ;  I  didn't  mean  any- 
thing by  my  rude  words  and  actions.  You  jumped 
right  into  my  arms  and  I  couldn't  help  but  hold  you 
for  a  little  while,  you  know.  It  isn't  often  that  I've 
so  good  a  chance  to  hug  a  pretty  young  lady." 
And  again  he  laughed. 

Hester  made  no  reply  to  his  lame  apology ;  so  he 
proceeded : 

"  Come,  stand  up  closer  to  the  tree-trunk  or  you'll 
get  wet ;  the  water's  beginning  to  drip  through  the 
branches.  Now,  let's  have  a  complete  understanding 
—  Heavens  !  What  a  crash !  Come  nearer,  or  you 
won't  be  able  to  hear  me  —  I'll  not  lay  hands  on 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  239 

you.  Out  with  it  now.  What  do  you  want  me  to 
do?" 

"  I've  told  you,"  she  answered,  as  she  leaned 
against  the  great  tree,  and  drew  a  deep  breath. 

"  You  want  this  Marie  Fontanelle  killed?  " 

"  Yes ;  or  removed  beyond  my  cousin's  reach.  I 
want  him  to  suffer  torment  —  the  torment  of  irrep- 
arable loss  and  never-ending  uncertainty.  If  you 
.  kill  her,  he  mustn't  know  she  is  dead  —  he  musn't 
recover  the  body.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

"  Perfectly,"  was  the  quiet  rejoinder.  And  he  was 
silent  for  some  moments.  Presently  he  asked : 

"  How  would  it  suit  you  to  have  her  stolen  by  the 
Indians?" 

"  Wouldn't  he  follow  her  and  bring  her  back  ?  " 

"  Not  if  /  have  her  stolen." 

"  You  are  sure?  " 

"  Absolutely.  Besides,  she  would  suffer  as  much 
as  he." 

How  cleverly  he  led  her!  He  knew  the  prospect 
of  her  rival's  suffering  would  appeal  to  the  evil  side 
of  Hester's  nature. 

"  That's  what  I  want !  "  she  cried  eagerly.  "  Do 
that  —  do  it  soon  —  and  you  shall  be  amply  reward- 
ed." 

"  In  what  way?" 

"In  what  way!  I  have  wealth  —  gold;  it  shall 
be  yours  to  command." 

"How  much?" 

"  How  much  will  I  give  you?" 


240  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  Yes." 

"  A  thousand  pounds." 

"  It  would  take  that  much  to  procure  the  services 
of  the  Indians." 

"  Two  thousand  pounds." 

He  shook  his  head  as  he  shifted  his  position  to 
avoid  the  water  that  was  dripping  upon  him.  The 
storm  was  passing  and  the  rain  had  settled  to  a 
steady  downpour.  Hester  could  not  see  her  com- 
panion's gesture  —  she  could  barely  discern  the  out- 
line of  his  burly  figure ;  but  his  silence  irritated  her. 

"  What  do  you  mean  —  what  do  you  want  ?  "  she 
cried  sharply.  "  Name  your  price." 

"  You  won't  pay  it." 

"I  will!" 

"  My  price  is  your  estate  and  —  your  hand !  " 

"What!" 

"  You  heard  what  I  said." 

"  Never !  " — Her  voice  was  little  more  than  a 
hoarse  whisper. 

"  I  told  you  you  wouldn't  pay  the  price.  Very 
well ;  it's  all  one  to  me.  You'd  better  run  home  now 

—  I'm  going." 

He  made  a  move  to  leave  her;  but  she  fiercely 
gripped  his  arm  and  gasped: 

"  No  —  no !    Don't  go  —  wait.    I  will  do  anything 

—  anything.   I'll  sell  my  immortal  soul  to  pay  you ! 
When  can  you  have  this  —  this  girl  stolen  ?  " 

"  As  soon  as  I  can  bring  a  few  Indians  here,  and 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  241 

catch  her  beyond  the  outskirts  of  the  village." 

"  Can't  you  do  it  alone  ?  " 

"  I  can  steal  her,  but  I  can't  escape  with  her ;  I 
must  have  help.  The  settlers  would  overtake  me 
and  recover  her." 

"  It  would  be  an  easy  matter  to  kill  her." 

"  Very  easy." 

"  No !  I  don't  want  that  done  —  she  wouldn't  lead 
a  life  of  suffering  and  hardship  then.  I  want  her  to 
live  —  to  weep  her  baby  eyes  out  —  to  feel  the  tor- 
ture that  the  savages  know  so  well  how  to  inflict. 
She  shall  be  made  captive  by  the  Indians." 

"  And  you're  ready  to  pay  the  price  ?  "  he  ques- 
tioned, a  suppressed  chuckle  in  his  tone. 

"Now?" 

"  No ;  when  the  job  is  done." 

"  /  —  will  —  pay  —  the  —  price ! " 

"  Very  well ;  but  remember  that  I'll  not  be  tricked. 
If  you  attempt  to  evade  any  part  of  the  debt  —  you 
know  what  I  mean  —  I'll  have  your  life !  " 

He  caught  her  by  the  shoulders  and  held  her  so 
firmly  in  his  cruel  grasp,  that  she  winced. 

"  Don't !  "  she  almost  screamed,  from  pain  and 
fright.  "  You  hurt  me !  I'll  do  what  I've  promised. 
Do  you  want  any  money  now?  I  have  some  at  the 
cabin  —  I  can  get  it  for  you." 

He  released  his  hold. 

"  No.  I'll  call  on  you  when  I  need  it.  I  want  you 
to  remember  your  promise,  that's  all.  When  the 

job's  done  we'll  have  a  settlement  of  our  accounts. 
16 


242  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

I'm  to  get  the  redskins  to  kidnap  the  girl,  and  carry 
her  beyond  the  chance  of  rescue ;  you're  to  marry  me 
and  make  me  master  of  old  George  Lovelace's  exten- 
sive plantation  in  the  Shenandoah  valley.  Is  that 
the  bargain  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  was  the  faint  reply.  Then  quickly :  "  But 
how  do  you  know  I'm  George  Lovelace's  daugh- 
ter?" 

"  I  know  it  —  that's  enough.  I'd  accompany  you 
to  the  cabin,  but  it's  better  for  us  not  to  be  seen  to- 
gether. You  shall  hear  from  me  in  due  time ;  until 
then,  leave  everything  to  me." 


CHAPTER   XXI 

A  MONTH  slipped  by.  Paul  Graydon  and  the  other 
members  of  the  company  formed  for  the  col- 
onization of  the  middle  Muskingum,  labored  assid- 
uously. They  built  boats  for  the  transportation  of 
their  chattels ;  cleared  a  few  acres  of  ground ;  re- 
paired a  cabin  upon  the  site  of  their  proposed  settle- 
ment, that  had  been  the  home  of  some  adventurous 
squatter,  ere  the  land  came  into  possession  of  the 
Ohio  Company ;  and  erected  another  cabin  and  a 
blockhouse.  Then  they  were  ready  to  transfer 
themselves  and  goods  to  Big  Bottom. 

Marie  was  still  making  her  home  with  the  family 
of  Governor  St.  Clair ;  and  she  and  Louise  were  in- 
separable companions.  As  the  days  passed  and  no 
harm  befell  her,  the  French  girl  ceased  to  worry 
over  the  presence  of  Hester  Lovelace.  Her  nervous- 
ness wore  away ;  and  her  old  gayety  reasserted 
itself. 

In  conversation  with  her  lover  one  evening  she 
said: 

"  I  was  weak  and  foolish,  Paul,  to  imagine  your 
cousin  meant  me  harm.  I've  met  her  several  times 
since  you've  been  going  to  Big  Bottom;  and  she 

(243) 


244  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

pays  me  no  attention  whatever.  Of  course,  I've  fol- 
lowed your  advice  —  I  don't  venture  beyond  the  vil- 
lage alone  or  go  out  after  sunset.  Hester  appears 
very  sad  and  lonely.  I  really  pity  her." 

Paul  was  pleased  to  hear  his  sweetheart  speak  as 
she  did.  He  was  beginning  to  believe  he  was  unduly 
exercised  in  regard  to  her  safety.  He  himself  had 
met  Hester  more  than  once;  and  she  had  ignored 
his  presence  and  passed  on.  Paul  replied: 

"  You  speak  like  your  brave  little  self,  dear  one ; 
and  I  rejoice  to  hear  you.  We  expect  to  move  the 
first  of  September ;  but  there  is  much  to  do  to  make 
the  place  really  habitable.  We  shall  experience  a 
winter  of  hardship  and  discomfort.  With  your  con- 
sent, I  shall  leave  you  here  until  spring.  I've  talked 
over  the  matter  with  Isaac  and  Nancy,  and,  they 
heartily  endorse  my  views.  You'll  be  much  more 
comfortable  here ;  for  Nancy  will  be  the  only  woman 
among  us,  and  we  shall  have  but  poor  accommoda- 
tions. By  next  spring,  we  shall  have  a  cabin  of  our 
own." —  And  he  smiled. 

"  Louise  has  asked  me  to  stay  with  her  until 
spring,  but  —  "  she  began. 

"  Then  you'll  stay,  will  you  not  ?  "  he  eagerly  in- 
terrupted. 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  away  from  you"  she  mur- 
mured, laying  her  golden  head  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  We  shall  see  each  other  often,  sweetheart,"  he 
said  reassuringly ;  "  some  one  must  procure  and  for- 
ward supplies  to  the  others,  and  I'll  assume  that 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  245 

duty.    I'll  live  here  with  Gumbo ;  and  make  frequent 
trips  to  and  from  Big  Bottom." 

She  laughed :    "  You've  changed  your  plans  great- 
ly, Paul." 
'  "Havel?" 

"  Yes.  A  few  weeks  ago  you  were  all  anxiety 
to  remove  me  from  Marietta;  now  you're  just  as 
anxious  to  leave  me  here.  Why  is  it  ?  " 

"  For  the  reason  that  I  feel  now  you  will  be  more 
comfortable  and  more  nearly  secure  from  harm  in 
Marietta  than  at  Big  Bottom.  Here  there's  little 
danger  from  an  Indian  attack.  I  cannot  say  as 
much  for  our  new  settlement." 

A  few  days  later  Gumbo  and  a  companion  were 
in  the  woods,  searching  for  one  of  Governor  St. 
Clair's  horses  that  had  strayed.  They  returned  in 
the  dusk  of  the  evening,  and  announced  that  they  had 
seen  Indians  skulking  in  the  underbrush  a  mile  from 
the  village.  The  news  spread  rapidly  and  caused 
anxiety  and  alarm.  The  next  morning  a  number 
of  settlers  and  soldiers  went  out  to  look  for  the  In- 
dians ;  but  could  discover  no  trace  of  them.  The  men 
returned,  declaring  that  Gumbo  and  his  companion 
had  willfully  deceived  the  people.  The  negro  stub- 
bornly shook  his  head  and  said : 

"  I  reckons  dis  nigger  knows  a  red  debil  w'en  he 
sees  one  —  I  does !  " 

"Where  did  you  see  them?"  General  Putnam 
asked. 

Gumbo  described  the  place. 


246  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  How  many  were  there?  " 

"  Six  'r  seben." 

"  What  were  they  doing?  " 

"  Jes  lollin'  in  de  dead  leabes  under  de  brush,  like 
so  many  hogs." 

"  Did  they  see  you  ?  " 

"  I  doesn't  know,  sah." 

"  Did  they  have  any  weapons  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  wait  to  see,  sah ;  I  jes  dusted  right  outen 
dar!" 

Gumbo's  companion  was  questioned,  and  confirm- 
ed all  that  the  black  had  said.  General  Putnam 
stroked  his  shaven  cheek,  and  remarked  to  the  group 
of  citizens  around  him : 

"  I'm  convinced  that  these  men  have  told  the 
truth.  They  saw  Indians.  The  savages  are  lurking 
about  the  village,  bent  on  murder  and  pillage.  Let 
every  man  be  on  his  guard.  I'm  expecting  an  out- 
break at  any  time  —  and  this  small  band  may  be  the 
advance  guard  of  a  large  party." 

Then  seeing  a  number  of  the  Big  Bottom  colon- 
ists among  his  auditors,  he  turned  to  them  and  of- 
fered them  this  sage  advice : 

"  Boys,  you'd  better  defer  your  removal  to  Big 
Bottom  until  next  spring.  You're  brave  and  self- 
reliant  ;  but  you're  young  and  inexperienced.  Isaac 
Meeks  is  the  only  one  in  your  company  who  has 
reached  middle  age;  and  he  knows  little  of  Indian 
warfare.  Take  my  advice  —  you'll  rue  it  if  you 
don't.  An  Indian  outbreak  is  coming;  and  your 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  247 

settlement  will  be  exposed  and  practically  defense- 
less." 

Colonels  Sproat  and  Stacey  and  other  prominent 
men  joined  with  General  Putnam,  in  his  efforts  to 
persuade  the  young  men  to  defer  their  project; 
but  to  no  purpose. 

Hester  had  heard  nothing  from  Red  Wallace, 
since  their  interview  the  night  of  the  thunderstorm. 
At  times,  she  hoped  he  had  abandoned  all  thought  of 
kidnaping  Marie,  and  had  left  the  country  never  to 
return.  At  other  times  she  was  furiously  angry  that 
he  did  not  put  in  an  appearance,  and  stormed  that 
her  act  of  vengeance  was  so  long  delayed.  She 
shuddered  when  she  thought  of  the  agreement  that 
she  had  entered  into  with  the  stranger  of  whom  she 
knew  nothing;  and  marveled  at  her  own  depravity. 
But  she  rejoiced  when  she  contemplated  the  suffer- 
ing and  sorrow  that  would  fall  to  the  lot  of  the 
lovers ;  and  had  no  care  for  her  own  future.  Torn 
by  conflicting  thoughts  and  emotions  revenge  was 
still  her  dominant  impulse. 

When  she  heard  the  report  that  Indians  had  been 
seen  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  the  village, 
she  knew  what  it  meant.  Wallace  had  kept  his  prom- 
ise. Her  eyes  shone,  and  the  cruel  and  relentless 
look  upon  her  face,  which  had  become  habitual,  was 
intensified.  She  clapped  her  slim,  white  hands; 
laughed  and  cried  hysterically : 

"  Today  —  tomorrow  —  and  the  blow  will  fall ! 
She  will  be  torn  from  his  bosom  and  hurried  away 


248  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

never  to  return.  I  shall  see  and  gloat  over  his  an- 
guish of  spirit.  He'll  know  I  am  his  Nemesis  —  but 
he'll  be  able  to  do  nothing,  to  prove  nothing.  To- 
morrow —  the  day  after  —  and  the  blow  will  fall !  " 

But  the  blow  did  not  fall.  Instead,  her  accomplice 
met  her  one  morning  when  she  had  wandered  be- 
yond the  confines  of  the  village.  He  told  her  that 
he  had  failed  signally.  She  found  fault  with  him, 
and  he  returned  angrily: 

"  I've  done  all  any  man  could  do.  I  went  to  a 
hunting  party  of  Delawares  in  camp  upon  the  Tus- 
carawas,  and  persuaded  eight  of  them  to  aid  me  in 
kidnaping  the  girl.  I  promised  them  gold  and  plun- 
der— if  it  could  be  obtained.  For  two  weeks  we 
have  lain  in  the  woods  and  watched  the  settlement. 
But  the  yellow-haired  miss  refused  to  walk  into  our 
trap.  She  kept  among  the  cabins  and  did  not  ven- 
ture abroad  after  nightfall.  That  nigger,  Gumbo, 
has  dogged  her  heels  all  the  time.  The  Delawares 
got  discouraged  and  left.  The  plan  has  failed ;  but 
the  redskins  must  be  paid.  I  want  some  gold.  I 
daren't  break  my  promise  to  them." 

"  Not  a  grain  shall  you  have  until  Marie  Fonta- 
nelle  is  a  captive  among  the  savages  far  beyond  the 
chance  of  rescue." 

Barely  were  the  words  out  of  her  mouth,  ere  he 
caught  her  by  the  throat  and  thrust  her  against  a 
sapling  that  stood  near.  Her  features  grew  dark 
and  her  eyes  bloodshot ;  but  he  did  not  loose  his  hold 
upon  her. 


Iff  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  249 

"  You  stubborn  wench !  "  he  cried  hoarsely.  "  Do 
you  want  me  to  choke  the  life  out  of  you?  Will 
you,  or  will  you  not,  give  me  that  money  ?  " 

She  essayed  to  speak ;  but  a  gurgling,  inarticulate 
sound  alone  came  from  her  lips.  He  released  her; 
and  she  sank  upon  the  ground,  speechless  and  help- 
less. When  she  recovered  her  breath  she  gasped : 

"  Yes." 

"  All  right !  "  he  replied.  "  Here,  let  me  seat  you 
upon  this  stone.  Now,  no  more  kicking  over  the 
traces,  my  fine  filly,  and  we'll  get  along  first-rate. 
Listen  to  me.  I've  tried  and  failed ;  but  I'm  not  yet 
done  —  not  by  a  long  shot.  But  I'm  not  to  be  fooled 
with  —  you'll  find  that  out  —  and  when  I  set  my 
head  to  do  a  thing  I  never  give  up.  Do  you  follow 
me?" 

"  Y-e-s,"  was  the  murmured  answer. 

"  Well,  this  cousin  of  yours  and  a  number  of  oth- 
ers are  forming  a  settlement  about  forty  miles  up  the 
Muskingum.  They'll  remove  the  first  of  next 
month.  I  overheard  some  of  them  talking  as  they 
descended  the  river,  a  few  nights  ago.  This  Fonta- 
nelle  girl  will  accompany  them,  or  will  join  them, 
within  a  few  months,  at  the  farthest.  Isaac  Meeks 
is  of  the  company.  Do  you  understand?  " 

Her  head  nodded,  and  her  lips  moved;  but  no 
sound  came  from  them.  He  resumed : 

"  It'll  be  easy  to  bring  enough  redskins  to  attack 
and  destroy  the  settlement,  and  carry  the  girl  into 
captivity  —  much  easier  than  to  steal  her  from  here." 


250  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  So  long  —  so  long !  "  she  whispered. 

"  What's  that  you  say  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  It's  long  —  so  long  to  wait !  " 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  it  seems  a  long  time  to  you ; 
you're  so  full  of  touch-and-go.  But  long  or  short, 
it's  the  best  we  can  do ;  and  there's  no  use  kicking. 
I  want  no  more  objections  raised  to  my  plans,  nor  re- 
fusals offered,  to  my  demands  —  I  won't  have  it. 
You're  to  bring  me  fifty  pounds  in  gold,  this  even- 
ing, to  pay  the  Indians  I  brought  here.  I'll  follow 
them  and  reward  them ;  I  can't  afford  to  do  anything 
else,  for  I'll  want  their  services  again.  Fifty  pounds 
is  all  I  need  for  the  present.  You'll  bring  it?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  listlessly. 

"  Now,  you  are  coming  'round !  "  he  laughed. 
"  You'll  make  a  model  wife  one  of  these  fine  days. 
I've  been  away  from  you  a  month.  As  your  accepted 
lover  and  prospective  husband,  I'll  take  just  one 
sweet  kiss  at  parting." 

He  bent  over  her  and  pressed  his  lips  to  hers,  be- 
fore she  was  aware  of  his  intention.  Contrary  to 
what  he  had  expected,  she  did  not  fly  into  a  passion. 
Instead,  she  arose  and  said  quietly,  sadly : 

"  If  you  are  through,  with  your  violence  and  in- 
sults, I'll  return  to  the  village." 

As  she  turned  her  back  upon  him  and  walked 
away,  he  stared  after  her  in  blank  surprise,  mutter- 
ing: 

"  Meek  as  Moses !  Completely  cowed !  I  thought 
I  knew  how  to  tame  the  haughty  jade.  I'll  have  no 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  251 

further  trouble  with  her  now ;  and,  in  the  end,  I'll 
be  owner  of  old  George  Lovelace's  wealth." 

He  slapped  his  thigh  and  chuckled  as  he  moved 
into  the  depths  of  the  forest. 

With  lagging  footsteps  and  bowed  head,  Hester 
walked  toward  the  cabin  where  she  lodged.  Her 
proud  defiance  had  changed  to  abject  subjection; 
and  her  look  of  cruel  and  relentless  hate  to  one  of 

haggard  hopelessness. 

******* 

The  company  organized  for  the  purpose  of  estab- 
lishing a  colony  at  Big  Bottom,  consisted  of  thirty- 
six  members.  One  thing  after  another  hindered 
their  preparations  for  departure,  and  they  did  not  re- 
move until  about  the  middle  of  September,  seven- 
teen hundred  and  ninety.  Only  about  twenty-five 
members  went  to  establish  the  colony,  and  brave  the 
dangers  of  a  winter  upon  the  middle  Muskingum. 
Of  this  number,  several  soon  grew  disgusted  at  the 
hard  fare,  and  returned  to  Marietta.  Isaac  Meeks 
and  family,  John  Stacey  and  Paul  Graydon  were 
among  those  who  embarked  their  all  upon  one  of 
the  narrow  barges,  and  pulled  away  for  the  land  of 
promise. 

Big  Bottom  was  situated  upon  the  east  bank  of 
the  Muskingum,  about  forty  miles  above  the  mouth 
of  the  river  and  two  miles  below  the  mouth  of  Bald 
Eagle  Creek,  where  stood  the  lodge  of  Silverheels. 
The  plain,  or  "  bottom,"  stretched  along  the  shore 
of  the  stream,  and  consisted  of  level  and  rolling 


252  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

land  covered  with  a  heavy  growth  of  trees.  It  was 
three-fourths  of  a  mile  wide  and  five  miles  long,  and 
was  the  largest  tract  of  valley  land  between  Mariet- 
ta and  Duncan's  Falls.  The  new  settlement  was 
sixteen  miles  from  Waterford,  and  about  the  same 
distance  from  Wolf  Creek  Mills. 

The  settlers  had  three  buildings  —  two  log  cabins 
and  a  blockhouse.  The  latter  was  two  stories  in 
height,  with  walls  of  green  beech  logs,  and  punch- 
eon doors  and  floors.  It  stood  about  fifty  yards 
from  the  bank  of  the  stream,  in  the  center  of  a  small 
clearing.  The  cabins  were  makeshift  affairs  of  un- 
hewn logs.  One  stood  a  short  distance  above  the 
blockhouse ;  the  other,  a  short  distance  below  it.  A 
few  yards  above  the  clearing,  a  small  ctream  put  in- 
to the  river;  forming  a  broad  and  shallow  ravine; 
and,  back  of  the  open  space  cleared  by  the  settlers' 
axes,  the  level  land  rose  gradually  toward  the  base 
of  the  hills  three-fourths  of  a  mile  away. 

Isaac  Meeks  was  the  oldest  man  in  the  colony ;  his 
wife,  the  solitary  woman;  and  his  two  children  — 
Johnnie  and  Annie  —  were  the  only  persons  of  ten- 
der age.  The  other  settlers  were  young,  unmarried 
men,  with  the  exception  of  James  Batten,  who  was 
a  middle-aged  bachelor.  As  handed  down  by  local 
tradition,  the  names  of  the  members  of  the  little 
band,  that  thus  braved  the  perils  of  the  trackless 
wilds,  were:  Francis  and  Isaac  Choate,  Thomas 
Shaw  and  James  Batten  —  occupying  the  upper 
cabin ;  Asa  and  Eleazar  Bullard  —  living  in  the  low- 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  253 

er  one ;  and  Isaac  Meeks,  wife,  and  two  children ; 
John  Stacey  and  his  brother,  Philip ;  Ezra  Putnam, 
John  Camp,  Zebulon  Throop,  Jonathan  Farewell, 
James  Couch,  William  James  and  John  Clark  — 
having  quarters  in  the  blockhouse.  There  were  a 
number  of  other  "  associates  "  of  the  company ;  but 
they  did  not  have  a  permanent  residence  at  Big  Bot- 
tom. Paul  Graydon  was  one  of  these. 

The  year  being  so  far  advanced,  the  borderers 
could  do  little  more  than  supply  their  temporary 
needs.  Isaac  Meeks,  John  Stacey,  and  William 
James  scoured  the  woods  for  game,  while  the  oth- 
ers fished,  or  worked  at  clearing  the  land.  They  pro- 
cured their  corn  and  salt  from  Marietta,  The  form- 
er they  prepared  for  use,  by  pounding  in  a  stone 
handmill,  or  by  having  it  ground  into  coarse  meal, 
at  the  mills  upon  Wolf  Creek,  sixteen  miles  away. 

The  blockhouse  contained  but  two  rooms,  the  one 
over  the  other  ;  and  afforded  crude  and  scant  accom- 
modations. The  men  slept  upon  skins  and  feather 
ticks  spread  in  front  of  the  great  fireplace  on  the 
first  floor,  while  Nancy  and  the  children  occupied 
a  bed  upstairs.  Of  comfort  there  was  little  —  of 
luxury,  none;  but  of  freedom,  novelty  and  adven- 
ture, an  abundance. 

No  pen  can  portray  the  life  led  by  this  band  of 
hardy  pioneers  in  the  heart  of  the  American  wilder- 
ness. They  arose  with  the  sun,  and  with  the  sun  re- 
tired to  rest.  Their  manners  and  speech  were  rude 
and  unpolished ;  but  their  hearts  were  brave  and  ten- 


254  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

der.  Their  fare  was  coarse  and  homely,  consisting 
mainly  of  cornbread  and  game ;  but  it  was  nourish- 
ing in  quality  and  plentiful  in  quantity.  They  saw 
the  forest  leaves  change  from  green  to  gold  and 
crimson ;  and  they  garnered  the  frost-browned  nuts 
that  fell  from  the  boughs  of  the  shagbark-hickory, 
the  walnut  and  the  butternut.  The  first  snow  fell  — 
its  unspotted  whiteness  contrasting  strangely  with 
the  gray  of  the  tree  trunks,  the  brown  of  fallen 
leaves,  and  the  blue-green  of  the  water;  the  set- 
tlers battened  the  crevices  in  their  dwelling-places, 
and  piled  the  firewood  high  about  their  doors.  Win- 
ter came  in  earnest — the  snow  lay  deep  in  the  forest, 
and  the  Moose  Eye  shivered  under  its  heavy  coat  of 
ice;  the  colonists  piled  the  wood  higher  in  the 
yawning  fireplace,  and,  eagerly  sniffing  the  tooth- 
some vapors  of  hot  roast-turkey  and  corn-pone, 
pulled  their  stools  around  the  board  and  thanked 
God  for  the  bountiful  repast  that  was  spread  before 
them. 

In  the  midst  of  wild  beasts  and  savages,  sixteen 
miles  from  their  nearest  neighbors,  and  forty  miles 
from  a  doctor,  they  lay  down  and  slept  as  soundly 
as  though  within  a  walled  city,  with  a  cordon  of 
police  around  them.  But  they  made  the  mistake  of 
not  erecting  a  palisade  around  their  buildings,  and 
placing  a  sentry  each  night. 

Paul  Graydon  was  apprehensive  of  an  Indian  at- 
tack; and  each  time  he  came  to  the  settlement  he 
begged  his  companions  to  be  watchful.  But  they 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  255 

laughed  at  him,  and  scouted  the  idea  of  an  attack 
in  winter.  Paul  and  Stacey  went  over  to  Silver- 
heels'  cabin  and  asked  him  to  join  the  colonists ;  but 
he  refused.  His  answer  was : 

"  I  am  both  paleface  and  red  man  —  and  I  am 
neither.  I  shall  live  alone." 

"  Do  you  think  there  is  any  danger  of  the  Indians 
attacking  our  little  settlement?  "  Paul  inquired. 

"  The  Dela wares  and  Wyandots  are  squaws  — 
they  like  not  the  deep  snows  of  winter,"  the  Shaw- 
nee  replied  contemptuously.  Then  with  a  sweep  of 
his  hand  he  concluded :  "  But  their  burning  desire 
for  scalps  and  plunder  may  warm  their  feet  and  send 
them  forth.  The  palefaces  should  bar  their  doors 
and  sleep  with  one  eye  open." 

"  Will  you  not  warn  rny  people,  if  you  know  of 
their  danger?"  Graydon  asked  very  earnestly. 

"  Ugh !  Silverheels  has  not  forgotten  his  friends ; 
he  will  be  a  watch-dog.  He  will  bark  if  the  Dela- 
wares  draw  near." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

LATE  in  November,  Johnnie  Meeks  fell  ill  of  lung- 
fever.    His  mother  had  more  than  she  could 
do  to  attend  him  and  cook  for  those  directly  depend- 
ent upon  her.     When  Paul  made  his  next  visit  to 
Big  Bottom,  she  said : 

"  Mister  Paul,  I  want  you  to  go  right  back  to 
Marietta  an'  bring  my  gal  up  here ;  I  can't  get  along 
without  'er,  nohow." 

"  But,"  Paul  objected,  "  she  may  not  want  to  come. 
Can't  you  take  care  of  Johnnie  yourselves  —  you 
and  Isaac  ?  " 

"  Isaac !  "  she  snorted  contemptuously.  "  He's  of 
no  earthly  'count  in  sickness  —  jest  sets  'round  an' 
smokes  his  pipe  an'  cracks  his  fingers.  Might  as 
well  'ave  a  wooden  man,  fer  all  the  good  he  is  at  such 
times.  Johnnie's  awful  sick,  an'  he's  got  to  be  took 
care  of.  He  cries  an'  cries  fer  Marie  to  come ;  an' 
she's  got  to  come  —  that's  all  ther'  is  of  it.  As  fer 
her  not  wantin'  to  come,  that  don't  make  no  differ- 
'nce.  Tell  'er  I  said  she  had  to  come.  She'll  want 
to  come,  though,  when  she  knows  I  need  'er,  'spe- 
cially when  you  tell  'er  Johnnie  wants  'er.  She 
thinks  a  pow'rful  sight  o'  Johnnie.  You  go  right 
down  an'  git  'er,  Mister  Paul." 
(256) 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  257 

"  It's  very  cold,"  Paul  persisted.  "  The  river  is 
frozen ;  and  I  don't  know  how  I  could  bring  her. 
She  couldn't  skate  so  far." 

"  You  can  put  'er  on  a  sled  an'  push  'er  —  that's 
how.  You  can  do  it  easy  enough,  if  you  want  to.  I 
won't  rest  easy  a  minute  till  she's  here." 

"  Nor  let  any  one  else  rest,"  the  young  man  mut- 
tered under  his  breath.  But  he  replied  discreetly: 
"  She's  safe  and  comfortable  there.  I  don't  like  the 
idea  of  bringing  her  here  until  spring.  By  that  time 
I  hope  to  have  a  cabin  erected  and  arrangements 
made  for  her  reception.  I'll  marry  her  in  Marietta 
before  I  bring  her  to  Big  Bottom  —  " 

"  But  you  ain't  married  yit,  an'  she  don't  belong 
to  you,"  Nancy  returned,  with  flushed  face  and 
flashing  eyes.  She  was  growing  angry  at  Paul's 
persistency.  She  continued : 

"  She's  my  gal  till  you  marry  'er  —  an'  I  want  'er 
here;  an'  I'm  a-goin'  to  'ave  my  way  'bout  it,  too!  " 

"  Very  well,"  he  replied  hastily,  "  I'll  inform  her 
of  your  desire,  and  she  may  decide  for  herself  what 
she'll  do.  I  don't  wish  to  run  counter  to  your  wish- 
es: only,  I  feel  she  would  be  safer  there  than 
here  —  " 

"  It's  safe  enough  fer  the  rest  of  us  here ;  an'  it's 
safe  enough  fer  her.  Talk  o'  safety !  Great  safety 
ther'  is  in  Marietta,  fer  'er  —  right  ther'  with  that 
cousin  o'  yours.  I  wonder  she  hain't  stuck  a  knife 
into  Marie,  afore  this.  No,  Mister  Paul,  she's  my 
gal  yit.  When  you  an'  her's  married,  you  can  settle 
17 


258  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R 

y'r  own  affairs.  I  won't  say  a  word.  But  till  that 
time,  I  mean  to  'ave  a  say  'bout  some  things !  " 

The  next  forenoon,  Paul  skated  to  Marietta ;  and, 
as  soon  as  he  had  transacted  his  business,  called 
upon  Marie  at  Campus  Martius.  He  informed  her 
of  Johnnie's  illness  and  Nancy's  desire. 

"  How  can  I  get  there?  "  were  Marie's  first  words. 

"  You'll  go,  then  ?  "  be  returned,  a  little  surprised 
at  her  readiness. 

"  Yes,  I'll  go ;  Uncle  Isaac  and  Aunt  Nancy  have 
been  kind  to  me,  in  many  ways.  Of  course  my 
aunt  is  a  chronic  scold,  and  very  disagreeable  at 
times.  But  she's  in  trouble,  and  I  must  go  to  her. 
With  all  her  rough  ways,  she's  kind-hearted.  She 
would  do  as  much  for  me.  Is  Johnnie  very  sick  ?  " 

"  He  appears  to  be." 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  well  to  take  Dr.  True  with  us  ?  " 

Paul  answered  smilingly :  "  I  don't  think  that  it 
is  necessary.  You'll  prove  the  better  physician  of 
the  two;  Nancy  informed  me  that  the  little  fellow 
was  calling  for  you  in  his  delirium." 

The  tears  came  into  the  girl's  eyes,  as  she  replied : 

"Then  I  can't  think  of  refusing  to  go.  Should 
he  die,  I  could  never  forgive  myself.  When  can  we 
be  off  —  and  how  can  we  go?" 

"  I'll  fashion  a  small  sled  upon  which  you  can 
ride.  I  can  skate  and  push  you.  We'll  start  tomor- 
row morning." 

"  Won't  that  be  hard  work  for  you,  Paul?  " 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  259 

"  No,  indeed,"  was  his  laughing  reply.  "  I  shall 
skim  you  over  the  ice  like  a  bird." 

"  And  there's  no  danger?  " 

He  looked  grave  as  he  replied :  "  There  is  no 
danger  in  making  the  journey;  but  I  fear  you  won't 
be  safe  at  Big  Bottom.  I've  a  premonition  that  if 
you  go  there,  some  great  calamity  will  befall  us. 
The  situation  is  exposed ;  and  the  men  are  heedless 
of  danger.  I  fear  an  Indian  attack  —  and  at  a  time 
that  I  shan't  be  there  to  defend  you.  Don't  go.  Let 
me  say  to  your  aunt  that  you've  decided  to  remain 
in  Marietta,  until  spring." 

She  gently  patted  his  bronzed  cheek,  and  said : 

"  You're  morbid,  Paul ;  no  harm  will  befall  me. 
I  must  go  —  I  must  do  what  I  feel  to  be  my  duty, 
at  all  hazard.  Let's  brood  over  remote  and  possible 
dangers,  no  longer.  I'll  be  ready  to  start  in  the 
morning." 

"  You'll  return  at  the  end  of  a  few  weeks  —  as 
soon  as  the  boy's  better  ?  " 

"  No,  I'll  go  to  stay.  There'll  be  no  need  of  mak- 
ing a  return  journey.  Soon  you'll  be  at  Big  Bottom, 
all  the  time ;  and  I  shall  be  there  with  you.  I  can 
endure  the  crowded  blockhouse  for  a  few  months  — 
until  we  have  a  cabin  of  our  own." 

And  she  blushed  prettily. 

Paul  felt  much  more  cheerful  as  he  left  the  quar- 
ters of  the  St  Glair  family  and  went  to  his  own 
room  in  the  northeast  blockhouse.  His  conversation 
with  Marie  had  dispelled  much  of  his  foreboding. 


260  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

His  sweetheart's  presence  invariably  had  the  effect 
of  clearing  his  mental  sky,  of  the  clouds  of  discour- 
agement. 

He  found  Gumbo  repairing  a  splint-bottomed 
chair  and  giving  a  part  of  his  attention  to  a  pot  of 
beans  that  bubbled  and  simmered  upon  the  coals. 
The  negro  looked  up  at  Paul's  entrance,  his  sable 
countenance  shining  with  delight,  and  cried: 

"  I's  pow'ful  glad  to  see  you  dis  mornin',  Marss 
Paul  —  I  is.  I  had  de  mos'  distressful  an'  veracious 
dream  las'  night  dat  eber  was.  I  dremp  dat  dem 
scalpagin  Injin  debils  had  'tacked  de  Big  Bottom; 
an'  killed  an'  massacreed  ebery  libin'  soul  in  de 
settlement  but  you." 

"And  I  escaped,  did  I,  Gumbo?"  Paul  replied, 
seating  himself  upon  a  stool  and  warming  his  feet 
at  the  fire. 

"  Yes,  dat's  w'at  troubles  me,  Marse  Paul." 

"  Explain." 

"  You  knows  dat  dreams  goes  by  c'ntraries,  Marse 
Paul.  If  I  dreams  dat  you's  killed,  den  you's  not 
killed ;  an'  if  I  dreams  dat  you's  not  killed,  den  you's 
killed." 

"  Is  that  so?  Well,  you  dreamed  that  there  was  a 
massacre,  so  there'll  be  no  massacre  —  if  your  theo- 
ry's the  true  one." 

"How's  dat,  Marse  Paul?" 

Paul  repeated  his  statement.  The  negro's  smile 
relaxed  into  a  broad  grin,  as  he  answered : 

"  Dat's  so —  hadn't  elucidated  de  subjeck  in  dat 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  261 

way.  Dar's  nuffin'  like  habin'  a  good  head  fo'  con- 
fusin'  yo'se'f." 

Graydon  told  his  black  companion  of  Johnnie's 
illness,  and  the  change  that  it  had  worked  in  his  — 
Paul's  —  plans. 

"  An'  is  dis  nigger  to  go,  too,  Marse  Paul  ? " 
Gumbo  asked. 

"No,  you're  to  stay  here  until  spring.  I  shall  be 
with  you  a  part  of  the  time.  When  spring  opens, 
we'll  be  in  a  cabin  of  our  own  at  Big  Bottom.  With 
Prince  to  draw  the  plow  and  you  to  help  me  in  the 
clearing  —  " 

"  An'  de  purty  little  gal  to  cook  de  co'n-pone  an' 
meat  —  "  Gumbo  interjected. 

"  We  shall  get  on  very  nicely,"  the  other  com- 
pleted. Then  both  laughed  heartily  at  the  prospect. 

"  How  is  Hester  comporting  herself?  "  was  Paul's 
next  question. 

A  look  of  sadness  overspread  the  darky's  face,  as 
he  replied: 

"  She  doesn't  'pear  to  be  up  to  no  debilment, 
Marse  Paul;  she  jes'  rummages  'round  froo  de  set- 
tlement, like  a  cold  shadder.  I  pities  her  —  I  does. 
She's  as  thin  an'  white  as  paper,  an'  she  hacks  an' 
coughs  all  de  blessed  time.  Poor  gal !  She  looks 
mo'  an'  mo'  like  de  ol'  missus,  eb'ry  day." 

"  I  wish  I  could  speak  with  her,"  Paul  said  mus- 
ingly ;  "  and  advise  her  to  return  to  Virginia.  This 
climate  is  too  severe  for  her,  and  —  " 

"  It  wouldn't  do  no  good  fo'  you  to  say  a  word, 


262  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

Marse  Paul;  she'd  jes'  fly  into  a  tantrum  —  she's 
like  de  ol'  missus  in  dat  way." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  Well,  I  must  be  off  to  prepare 
for  the  trip.  I'll  be  back  in  an  hour  for  dinner.  By 
the  way,  I  want  you  to  make  a  small  sled  this  after- 
noon, on  which  I  can  convey  Marie  and  her  things 
to  Big  Bottom." 

"  All  right,  Marse  Paul,"  was  the  cheery  answer 
Graydon  heard,  as  he  passed  through  the  door. 

At  sunrise  next  morning,  Marie  bade  a  tearful 
farewell  to  Louise,  and  dejectedly  followed  her  lov- 
er through  the  western  gate  of  Campus  Martius. 
On  reaching  the  river  bank,  they  found  Gumbo 
awaiting  with  everything  in  readiness.  Marie  seat- 
ed herself  upon  the  diminutive  but  comfortable  ve- 
hicle ;  Paul  tucked  the  fur  robes  around  her,  strap- 
ped the  skates  upon  his  feet,  and,  grasping  the 
wooden  handles  of  the  sled,  pushed  away  up  the 
river. 

"  Goodby,  Marse  Paul  an'  Miss  M'rie !  "  the  poor 
black  shouted,  the  tears  in  his  eyes.  "  Don't  let  de  red 
debils  steal  de  purty  little  gal,  Marse  Paul !  " 

"  Goodby,  Gumbo  —  goodby  1 "  floated  back  to 
him,  upon  the  crisp  air. 

It  was  a  bright,  cold  morning.  Hoar-frost  hung 
upon  the  bare  branches  of  the  trees  and  sifted  down 
upon  the  travelers,  as  they  passed,  like  downy  feath- 
ers from  a  fairy's  wing.  The  clear,  green  ice  boom- 
ed and  cracked  as  they  flew  over  it,  causing  Marie 
to  break  forth  in  bird-like  exclamations  of  alarm, 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  263 

at  which  Paul  laughed  immoderately.  Never  had  he 
seen  her  so  beautiful.  The  keen  air  lent  a  heighten- 
ed tint  to  her  cheeks.  The  morning  sunbeams  turn- 
ed her  hair  to  rivulets  of  molten  gold ;  and  her  bright 
eyes  were  brighter  than  was  their  wont.  Inspired 
by  the  exhilaration  of  the  rapid,  gliding  motion,  she 
babbled  and  laughed  incessantly,  until  Paul's  brain 
was  in  a  whirl.  Wrapped  in  the  billowy  fur-robes, 
and  seated  coquettishly  upon  the  flying  sled,  she  was 
the  living,  breathing  reincarnation  of  some  ancient 
queen  of  the  Northland.  Is  it  a  cause  for  wonder, 
that  he  was  willing  to  cast  aside  worldly  wealth  and 
bury  himself  in  the  heart  of  the  western  wilderness, 
to  win  her? 

As  they  passed  a  point  some  ten  miles  above  Ma- 
rietta, a  man  peering  from  the  mouth  of  a  shallow, 
rocky  cavern,  that  overhung  the  river,  drew  back  in- 
voluntarily and  muttered  to  himself : 

"  Gray  don  and  his  sweetheart,  or  I'm  a  spotless 
saint!" 

He  watched  the  couple  until  they  turned  the  bend 
and  disappeared  from  sight.  Then,  grimacing  and 
chuckling,  he  stamped  out  the  embers  that  burned 
upon  the  rocky  floor,  caught  up  his  rifle,  and,  de- 
scending a  steep  and  winding  path  among  the  rocks 
and  bushes,  reached  the  river  bank  and  stepped  out 
upon  the  glassy  ice. 

"Man's  extremity  is  the  devil's  opportunity!" 
he  parodied,  as  he  set  off  in  the  direction  of  Mariet- 
ta. I  was  almost  ready  to  give  up  in  despair  and 


264  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

return  to  the  comforts  of  my  cabin  on  the  Tuscara- 
was.  By  all  the  gods  above  and  below !  I've  had  a 
cold  and  comfortless  time  of  it  for  the  last  few  days 
—  cooped  up  in  that  den,  with  a  little  dried  meat  and 
chill  air  for  a  diet  and  the  damp  rock  for  a  bed.  It'll 
take  a  month  of  sunshine  to  thaw  me  out.  I'm  cold 
to  the  marrow  of  my  backbone.  Ha !  ha !  Thus  is 
patience  rewarded.  Won't  the  charming  Hester  be 
glad  to  hear  the  good  tidings.  Red  Wallace,  your 
luck  is  returning." 

The  next  moment  a  scowl  corrugated  his  low 
brows;  and,  with  an  oath,  he  hissed  between  his 
strong  fang-like  teeth : 

"I  may  be 'wrong  after  all;  perhaps  they're  out 
for  amusement,  and  are  not  on  their  way  to  Big  Bot- 
tom. Oh,  if  I  had  had  half  a  dozen  of  my  Dela- 
wares  and  Wyandots  at  my  back !  Success  perches 
upon  the  banner  of  him  who  watches  and  —  prays ; 
and  I've  been  watching  and  praying  for  many 
moons.  It  may  be  the  fascinating  Miss  Lovelace  has 
grown  tired,  and  returned  to  her  broad  acres  in  Vir- 
ginia. No  matter;  I  can  follow  her.  The  prize  is 
almost  within  my  grasp.  I  don't  admire  her  temper 
overmuch ;  but  I'll  tame  her.  Curse  this  slavish 
walking  —  one  slides  about  like  a  drop  of  water  on 
a  hot  griddle !  " 

A  number  of  young  people  were  skating  upon  the 
Muskingum,  in  front  of  Campus  Martius.  As  Red 
Wallace  passed  among  them,  he  asked  of  a  group  of 
boys  near  the  shore : 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  265 

"  Who  was  that  young  man  and  young  woman 
that  went  up  the  river  an  hour  or  two  ago  ?  " 

The  lads  shook  their  heads  negatively,  except  one 
who  looked  up  from  the  skate  that  he  was  fastening, 
and  returned: 

"  Was  the  woman  on  a  sled,  and  the  man  pushing 
her?" 

"  Yes." 

"  It  must  'ave  been  Mr.  Graydon  and  Miss  Fonta- 
nelle.  I  didn't  see  them ;  but  as  I  came  down  to  the 
river  I  met  the  negro,  Gumbo,  who  told  me  Mr. 
Graydon  had  just  started  for  the  new  settlement, 
Big  Bottom,  with  Miss  Fontanelle  on  a  sled." 

"  Are  they  coming  back  on  the  ice  ?  "  Red  Wal- 
lace asked  carelessly. 

"  They're  not  coming  back  at  all,"  answered  the 
lad  working  industriously  at  his  refractory  skate 
straps ;  "  at  least  that's  what  the  darky  said.  He  told 
me  Miss  Fontanelle's  going  up  to  Big  Bottom  to  live. 
Gumbo  was  down  in  the  mouth  because  they  had  left 
him  here  alone." 

"  Well,  it's  no  concern  of  mine,"  Wallace  remark- 
ed, as  he  sauntered  away  from  the  group ;  "I 
thought  if  they  were  coming  back  on  the  ice,  they'd 
find  it  pretty  soft  by  tomorrow." 

He  left  the  river  and  went  directly  to  the  cabin 
where  Hester  staid.  His  vigorous  rap  upon  the 
heavy  door  brought  a  prompt  response  from  the  in- 
terior, the  savage  growl  of  a  dog.  Wallace  waited 
a  few  moments  ;  then,  turning  away,  grumbled : 


266  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  Nobody  at  home.  Where  in  the  plague  can  that 
minx  be  ?  Hello !  Here's  another  crowd  skating  at 
the  Point.  Perhaps  she's  among  them." 

He  walked  down  to  the  shore  and  found  Hester 
standing  watching  the  skaters.  She  was  wrapped  in 
heavy  furs,  but  her  features  looked  pinched  and 
blue. 

"  I  know  why  you  come,"  were  her  first  words ; 
"  but  we  cannot  talk  here.  You  know  where  I'm 
staying  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Very  well ;  the  others  are  away  from  the  house. 
Go  there  —  I'll  join  you  in  a  few  minutes." 

"  But  there's  a  dog  there,"  he  objected.  "  I  went 
to  the  cabin  to  find  you;  the  beast  growled  when 
I  knocked  upon  the  door." 

A  sneer  curled  her  thin  lips  as  she  replied : 

"  You  are  indeed  brave  and  fearless !  The  dog 
is  chained  to  the  back  wall ;  he  can't  harm  you." 

Wallace  made  no  reply  to  her  cutting  taunt,  out, 
turning  on  his  heel,  proceeded  to  the  cabin.  The 
dog  —  a  huge  mongrel  —  rolled  his  blood-rimmed 
eyes,  tugged  at  his  chain,  and  showed  his  white 
fangs,  in  a  foam-dripping  snarl.  Finding  that  he 
could  not  reach  the  intruder,  the  wolfish  animal 
dropped  upon  the  floor ;  and,  resting  his  head  upon 
his  paws,  watched  the  man  and  growled  sullenly. 

The  cabin  was  better  furnished  than  most  of  the 
others  in  the  village.  It  contained  two  beds,  a  chest 
of  drawers,  a  table,  chairs,  and  other  articles  of 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  267 

household  furniture.  The  floor  was  scoured  to 
snowy  whiteness  ;  and  the  hearth  upon  which  smoul- 
dered an  expiring  fire  was  free  from  litter.  Red 
Wallace  took  this  in  at  a  glance.  Then  he  seated 
himself  to  await  the  coming  of  Miss  Lovelace. 

"  Who  lives  here  with  you?  "  he  inquired,  when 
she  entered  a  few  minutes  later. 

"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gosney,"  she  responded,  as  she 
drew  a  chair  up  to  the  hearth. 

"Where  are  they?" 

"  They  went  to  Belpre  this  morning." 

"  There's  no  danger  of  our  being  seen  or  heard, 
then?" 

"  None." — And  she  coughed  and  shivered. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you  ?  "  he  cried  half  an- 
grily. "  You  cough  like  a  person  nearly  dead  of  con- 
sumption ;  and  you  look  like  a  shadow.  I  never  saw 
such  a  change  in  any  one  in  my  life." 

"  I  am  not  well  —  I've  contracted  a  heavy  cold," 
was  all  the  reply  she  made  to  his  brutal  remark. 

"  Well,  you  want  to  get  back  to  Virginia  as  soon 
as  you  can,  or  you  won't  live  six  months.  But,  now 
to  business.  Did  you  think  I  had  abandoned  our 
project,  and  was  never  coming  back?" 

"  I  didn't  know,"  she  replied  listlessly,  as  she 
stirred  the  coals  and  laid  on  a  few  sticks  of  wood. 

"  Maybe  you  didn't  care !  "  he  cried  sharply. 

She  held  her  blue-veined  hands  over  the  blaze, 
pulled  her  fur  wrap  more  closely  around  her  should- 
ers, and  murmured,  as  though  talking  to  herself : 


268  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  Yes,  I  wanted  you  to  come  back.  I  have  not 
lost  my  desire  for  revenge.  I  am  sick  —  sick  of  de- 
lay. Once  my  appetite  is  sated,  I  shall  be  ready  to 
die." 

"  Bah !  "  he  sneered.  "  You're  not  going  to  die. 
A  woman  don't  die  of  delay  or  disappointment. 
You'll  live  to  marry  me  and  return  to  your  birth- 
place in  the  Shenandoah  valley.  Stop  that  whining 
about  death  and  the  grave;  you  make  me  feel 
creepy.  Perk  up  and  listen  to  what  I  have  to  say." 

"  I  am  all  attention." 

"  Listen,  then.  I've  been  among  the  Delaware 
and  Wyandots,  in  their  hunting  camp  upon  the  Tus- 
carawas.  I've  made  arrangements  with  a  party  of 
warriors,  to  attack  Big  Bottom  and  carry  off  the 
girl.  I  came  back  a  few  days  ago,  to  find  out  the 
status  of  affairs ;  and  I  learn  your  rival  has  gone  to 
the  new  and  unprotected  settlement  to  live  —  " 

"  When  did  she  go?  "  she  interrupted,  her  cheeks 
flushing. 

"  This  morning." 

"You  saw  her?" 

"  Yes." 

"  How  do  you  know  she's  going  to  stay  there?  " 

"  What  I  see  with  my  own  eyes  and  hear  with  my 
own  ears,  I  know." 

She  arose  to  her  feet  and  swayed  to  and  fro  as  she 
cried : 

"  Then  —  then  you  can  strike  the  blow  at  once ! 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  269 

You  can  have  her  abducted  —  carried  away  by  the 
savages  at  any  time !  " 

"  Now,  you  appear  like  your  old  self,"  he  laughed. 
"  Yes,  I  shall  strike  the  blow  as  soon  as  I  can  re- 
trace my  steps  to  the  Tuscarawas,  and  bring  my 
pack  of  red  hounds  down  upon  them.  It  will  take 
but  a  few  weeks,  at  most.  I  want  some  gold." 

"  You  shall  have  it !     How  much  do  you  want?  " 

"  A  hundred  pounds  to  bind  the  bargain.  It'll 
take  more  than  that ;  but  I  can  pay  them  after  the 
job's  done." 

"  I  haven't  that  amount  with  me." 

"  How  much  have  you  got  ?  " 

"  Sixty  pounds." 

"  I  can  make  it  do.     Give  it  to  me." 

She  brought  the  bag  of  gold  coins  from  a  drawer 
in  the  chest  that  stood  against  the  log  wall,  and 
threw  it  into  his  outstretched  hands,  saying: 

"  You  can  have  more  when  you  want  it ;  but  I 
shall  have  to  send  to  Virginia  for  it.  I  shall  send 
immediately  for  a  hundred  pounds  —  ' 

She  stopped  speaking  suddenly,  and  looked  him 
full  in  the  face  for  several  seconds. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  inquired,  an  amused  smile  flick- 
ering about  his  sensual  mouth. 

"  There  will  be  no  failure  this  time?  " 

"  None." 

"  You  purpose  to  attack  the  settlement  ?  " 

"  To  wipe  it  out  of  existence." 


270  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

''  The  settlers  are  brave  and  well  armed  —  they 
may  repel  your  attack." 

"  They  are  practically  defenseless,  and  inexperi- 
enced and  careless.  We'll  take  them  by  surprise. 
There'll  be  no  failure  this  time;  I've  spied  around 
the  place,  and  I  know  when  and  how  to  make  the  at- 
tack." 

"  You  understand  that  Paul,  my  cousin,  is  not  to 
be  killed  or  injured?  " 

"  I  understand  perfectly." 

"  He  may  be  there  at  the  time." 

"  No  matter  —  he  shan't  be  hurt." 

"  It  is  great  slaughter !  " —  She  shuddered  and 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands. — "  Perhaps  there 
is  some  other  way — " 

"  Stop !  "  he  thundered,  snatching  her  hands  from 
her  face  and  shoving  her  into  a  chair.  "  None  of 
the  white  feather,  now.  You've  gone  too  far.  A 
few  dead  men  more  or  less !  Bah !  What  does  it 
matter?  Come  —  keep  a  stiff  upper  lip !  Revenge 
is  sweet.  Paul  Graydon  will  be  a  heart-broken  man 
—  and  blackness  and  'ashes  will  mark  the  site  of  the 
settlement  at  Big  Bottom.  I'm  off  now.  A  few 
short  weeks  and  you'll  be  my  bride,  eh  ?  " 

He  left  the  cabin  —  hastily  glancing  to  the  right 
and  to  the  left  as  he  closed  the  door  behind  him,  and 
strode  away.  She  sat  by  the  fire,  rubbing  her  numb 
hands  over  each  other  and  mumbling  incoherently : 

"  Revenge !     A  bride !     A  bride  of  Death  —  he 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  271 

shall  bear  me  afar  upon  his  white  horse  —  his  flesh- 
less  arms  shall  enfold  me !  Revenge  —  revenge  is 
sweet !  A  bride  —  a  bride  of  Death !  " 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

PAUL  and  Marie  reached  Big  Bottom  in  safety. 
The  weather  grew  warmer  and  the  river 
cleared  of  ice.  Johnnie's  illness  abated.  The  short, 
rainy  December  days  hurried  by,  and  Christmas 
drew  near.  On  the  twenty-second  of  the  month, 
the  weather  grew  colder,  and  ice  again  covered  the 
surface  of  the  stream.  Christmas  day,  Johnnie  ate 
of  the  roast  turkey  that  graced  the  center  of  the 
board ;  and  his  mother  replenished  his  wooden  plat- 
ter more  than  once  with  hominy,  venison  and  corn- 
pone.  Every  one  in  the  isolated  community  was  en- 
joying the  best  of  health,  and  for  once  the  old  saw  — 
"  A  white  Christmas  makes  a  lean  graveyard  " — 
was  verified.  At  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  the 
weather  changed.  The  wind,  that  had  been  from 
the  west,  suddenly  veered  to  the  north  and  blew  an 
icy  gale  down  the  valley,  that  whitened  the  landscape 
still  more  and  sent  the  settlers,  shivering,  in  doors. 
It  grew  colder  and  colder,  and  the  snow  ceased  to 
fall.  The  howling  of  the  wind  among  the  stripped 
branches  of  the  trees  kept  the  lone  colonists  awake 
until  far  into  the  night.  At  midnight  the  wind  fell 
and  the  temperature  with  it.  When  morning  came 
the  blue  Muskingum  again  wore  a  heavy  coat  of  ice, 
(272) 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  273 

and  the  bark  of  the  forest  trees  snapped  and  cracked 
in  the  intense  cold. 

One  bright,  cold  day  followed  another.  The  first 
of  January  arrived ;  and,  with  it,  Colonel  Stacey 
from  Marietta.  He  came  to  see  his  two  sons,  John 
and  Philip,  and  to  satisfy  himself  that  the  residents 
of  Big  Bottom  were  in  no  danger  from  an  Indian  at- 
tack. He  was  much  displeased  at  their  carelessness. 

"  It's  a  good  thing  for  all  of  you,"  he  said,  "  that  I 
took  it  into  my  head  to  skate  up  here.  What  do  you 
mean  by  such  criminal  negligence  ?  I'm  surprised ! 
Here  you  are  without  a  pallisade  or  anything  to 
guard  you  from  an  Indian  surprise.  I  suppose 
you're  not  in  the  habit  of  placing  a  sentry  at  night, 
even?  " 

"  We  haven't  seen  the  need  of  pallisade  or  sen- 
try— "  began  William  James,  smiling  good-natur- 
edly. 

"  Seen  nothing ! "  the  colonel  snorted  angrily. 
"  Do  you  expect  the  redskins  to  come  and  warn  you 
of  their  presence?  I've  been  a  captive  among  them 
and  I  know  their  ways.  You  may  depend  upon  it 
they've  been  spying  around  here,  and  are  well  aware 
of  your  defenseless  condition.  They're  not  fools  by 
any  means.  They  may  be  down  upon  you  at  any 
time  — " 

"  But,"  interrupted  Francis  Choate,  "  they're  not 
in  the  habit  of  going  on  the  warpath,  in  the  depth  of 

winter." 
18 


274  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

Colonel  Stacey  smiled  pityingly  and  replied : 
"  Not  in  the  habit  —  no.  But  it  doesn't  take  much 
in  the  way  of  scalps  and  plunder,  to  induce  them  to 
change  their  habits.  Mark  my  words!  If  you 
don't  enclose  your  buildings  with  a  pallisade,  organ- 
ize yourselves  into  a  company  for  defense,  and  place 
one  or  more  sentries  every  night,  you'll  come  to 
grief.  I  entreat  you  to  do  as  I  advise !  " 

Paul  Gray  don  and  John  Stacey  joined  the  colonel 
in  his  appeal.  So  well  did  they  plead,  that  they  were 
promised  that  a  palisade  should  be  erected  as  soon 
as  the  weather  would  permit,  and  that  a  picket 
should  do  duty  each  night  at  the  future.  When  Paul 
—  accompanied  by  the  colonel  —  started  for  Marietta 
that  afternoon,  he  felt  that  his  companions  at  last 
fully  realized  their  exposed  condition  and  would  not 
allow  their  enemies  to  surprise  them. 

As  he  kissed  his  sweetheart  and  bade  her  goodby, 
he  said : 

"  I'll  return  the  day  after  tomorrow.  Be  of  good 
cheer ;  springtime  is  coming  and  with  it  a  home  of 
our  own." 

"  But,  Paul,  I'm  so  uneasy,  so  —  so  —  I  don't 
know  how  to  tell  you.  I  feel  that  something  dread- 
ful is  about  to  come  upon  us  —  that  I  shall  be  taken 
from  you  —  that — " 

"  Pshaw  —  pshaw,  little  one !  "  he  laughed  lightly. 
"  Our  idle  clatter  of  pallisades,  sentries  and  Indian 
attacks  has  made  you  nervous.  Run  back  to  the 
blockhouse  now;  it's  too  cold  to  stand  out  here  in 


7.V  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R  275 

the  snow.  See!  Colonel  Stacey  is  already  far 
down  the  river;  I  must  hasten  to  overtake  him. 
Goodby  —  and  God  bless  you  !  " 

He  was  gone.  To  Marie,  the  gray  clouds  were 
grayer  and  the  cold  winds  colder  for  his  absence. 
Once  back  at  the  blockhouse  in  the  chimney  corner, 
a  strange  hopelessness  took  possession  of  her.  What 
did  it  all  mean?  Was  she  nervous,  simply  —  as 
Paul  had  said  —  or  was  some  great  calamity  im- 
pending? 

The  short  afternoon  sped  and  night  came.  The 
colonists  stationed  a  sentry  at  one  of  the  block- 
house loop-holes,  and  lay  down  to  sleep.  When 
morning  came,  the  picket  reported  that  nothing  more 
dangerous  than  a  prowling  fox  had  invaded  their 
domain.  They  laughed  at  their  precautions,  and 
declared  that  in  the  future  they  would  dispense  with 
the  needless  trouble. 

Sunday,  January  the  second,  seventeen  hundred 
and  ninety-one,  was  bright  and  clear.  There  was 
no  church  for  the  borderers  to  attend,  so  they  spent 
the  day  playing  games  indoors,  rambling  around 
the  clearing,  and  shooting  at  a  mark.  Zebulon 
Throop  skated  down  to  Wolf  Creek  Mills,  and  re- 
turned with  a  bag  of  meal  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  It  has  thawed  some  today,  but  it  promises  to  be 
a  cold  night,"  John  Stacey  remarked  to  Marie,  as 
they  stood  in  front  of  the  wide  fireplace  and  watched 
the  savory  bear-steaks  broiling  upon  the  red  coals, 
for  supper. 


276  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  The  wind's  rising,"  returned  the  girl ;  "  it  wails 
and  sobs  among  the  trees  like  a  restless  spirit." 

"  My  old  grandmother  used  to  tell  me,"  James 
Couch  interjected,  "  that  when  the  wind  makes  that 
kind  of  noise  a  murderer  is  abroad." 

Marie  shivered  and  drew  near  the  fire. 

"  Stop  your  croaking,  Couch ! "  Stacey  cried 
sharply.  "  Let's  talk  of  something  cheerful.  Some- 
body tell  a  story,  while  supper  is  cooking." 

Nancy's  voice  broke  in : 

"  Marie,  you  take  this  trencher  o'  hominy  over  to 
the  Choate  boys  at  the'r  cabin ;  ther's  more'n  we  can 
eat,  an'  they  haint  got  any." 

"  Let  me  take  it,"  cried  young  Philip  Stacey ; 
"  I'm  better  able  to  face  the  wind." 

"No  — no,"  Marie  answered,  "I'll  take  it.  I 
don't  fear  a  little  cold." 

She  tripped  away  with  the  agility  of  a  fawn.  The 
heavy  door  banged  behind  her  as  she  flew  across  the 
open  separating  the  upper  cabin  from  the  block- 
house. Just  as  she  reached  the  door  of  the  hut,  she 
chanced  to  glance  toward  the  ravine  a  few  rods  up 
the  river.  Among  the  shadows  of  the  gloaming, 
she  caught  sight  of  moving  figures  emerging  from 
the  depression.  A  moment's  observation  told  her 
they  were  Indians ! 

Hastily  jerking  the  latch  string,  she  bounded  into 
the  room;  and  the  door  closed  behind  her.  The 
four  inmates  were  seated  around  the  supper  table, 
but  they  sprang  to  their  feet.  She  placed  the 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  277 

trencher  of  hominy  upon  the  board.  Isaac  Choate 
caught  her  arm  and  cried : 

"What  is  it?  Your  pale  face  tells  me  some- 
thing's amiss." 

"  Indians !  "  she  gasped. 

"  Where  ?  "  the  four  men  asked  in  concert. 

"  At  the  mouth  of  the  ravine,  just  above  —  I  saw 
them  as  I  reached  your  door ! " 

"  It  can't  be  —  surely  you're  mistaken !  "  they  re- 
plied. 

She  pressed  her  hand  over  her  heart  and  shook 
her  head.  James  Batten  ran  to  the  door  and  lifted 
the  latch  to  peep  out.  As  he  did  so,  a  stalwart  In- 
dian in  war  paint  and  feathers  crowded  through  the 
narrow  opening,  and,  with  a  grunt  of  satisfaction, 
advanced  toward  the  center  of  the  room.  He  was 
followed  immediately  by  several  others,  while  a 
larger  body  encircled  the  doorway. 

Marie  sank  into  a  chair.  She  expected  instant 
death  at  their  hands  ;  but  she  made  no  outcry. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  cabin  were  speechless  with 
amazement.  Thomas  Shaw  was  the  first  to  recover 
his  presence  of  mind.  He  advanced  toward  the 
chief,  and,  holding  out  his  hand  in  token  of  friend- 
ship, said: 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  Are  you  in  need  of  some- 
thing to  eat?" 

The  leader  of  the  Indians  nodded ;  and  the  whole 
party  within  the  house  helped  themselves  to  the  food 
upon  the  table,  passing  pieces  of  corn-bread  and 


278  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

meat,  to  those  on  the  outside.  They  were  armed 
with  rifles,  tomahawks  and  knives.  When  they  had 
devoured  the  food,  they  made  signs  to  the  whites  to 
surrender.  Overawed  by  the  superior  numbers,  the 
four  offered  no  resistance. 

Two  warriors  came  forward  and  took  hold  of 
Marie.  Pale  and  trembling,  she  arose  and  permitted 
them  to  bind  her  arms  behind  her.  A  discussion 
between  her  captors,  over  who  should  take  charge 
of  her,  was  cut  short  by  a  large,  fleshy-faced,  red- 
haired  brave  shoving  the  disputants  aside  and  lead- 
ing the  girl  into  the  open. 

As  she  reached  the  cold  air  outside,  Marie  heard 
the  blockhouse  door  creak  upon  its  hinges  and  saw 
in  the  flood  of  light  that  streamed  from  it,  a  group 
of  dusky  forms  surging  toward  the  entrance.  A 
volley  of  shots  followed  by  screams  and  groans  came 
to  her  ears ;  and,  with  the  cry  — "  My  God  !  they  are 
murdering  them !  " —  she  sank  senseless  upon  the 
snow. 

After  Marie's  departure  for  Choate's  cabin,  an 
oppressive  quiet  held  sway  in  the  blockhouse;  ap- 
parently no  one  was  in  a  talkative  mood.  Nancy, 
assisted  by  two  or  three  of  the  men,  went  on  cook- 
ing supper.  Isaac  took  both  children  upon  his 
knees,  pressed  them  to  his  breast  and  trotted  them 
softly.  John  Stacey  stood  close  to  the  fireplace, 
idly  beating  a  tattoo  with  his  fingers,  upon  the  log 
wall.  Suddenly  little  Johnnie  Meeks  piped: 

"  Pap,  what's  the  matter  with  Lion  ?  " 


Nancy  was  the  only  person  to  offer  armed  resistance 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  279 

The  dog,  bristles  erect  and  fangs  flashing,  had 
arisen  from  his  warm  corner  and  glided  to  the  cen- 
ter of  the  room.  Now,  with  a  deep,  angry  growl,  he 
leaped  toward  the  door  and  scratched  at  the 
puncheon  barrier. 

"  Down,  Lion  —  back  to  y'r  corner !  "  Nancy  com- 
manded ;  but  the  hound  refused  to  do  her  bidding. 

:<  Ther's  somethin'  'r  somebody  there  that  he  don't 
like,"  quietly  remarked  Isaac,  looking  over  his  shoul- 
der. 

"  Hark  !  What's  that  ?  "  cried  Philip  Stacey, 
springing  to  his  feet,  a  startled  look  upon  his  beard- 
less face. 

"  /  heard  nothing,"  his  brother  replied. 

"  /  heard  something  at  the  door,"  Philip  said. 
"There  —  " 

The  sentence  was  never  finished.  The  door  flew 
open,  and  an  Indian  sprang  over  the  sill,  waving  his 
hand  to  his  comrades.  In  answer,  a  dozen  rifles 
cracked,  and  a  number  of  the  settlers  fell  in  the 
throes  of  death.  The  others  reached  for  their  arms ; 
but  it  was  too  late.  A  second  volley,  and  the  sav- 
ages rushed  in  to  finish  their  bloody  work.  Zebulon 
Throop  dropped  dead  at  the  first  shot.  Isaac  Meeks 
sank  into  eternal  rest,  with  his  two  children  clasped 
in  his  arms.  Nancy  was  the  only  person  to  offer 
armed  resistance.  Catching  up  a  heavy  axe,  that 
stood  in  the  chimney  corner,  she  towered  above  the 
prostrate  form  of  her  husband  and  attempted  to  pro- 
tect from  death,  the  pleading  children.  A  stalwart 


280  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

brave  made  effort  to  snatch  the  weapon  from  her 
hands;  but  with  a  screech  of  defiance  she  brought 
it  down  upon  his  head,  almost  severing  one-half  of 
his  face,  and  burying  the  edge  of  the  blade  in  his 
shoulder.  With  a  howl  of  pain,  he  staggered 
through  the  door  and  fell  in  a  writhing  heap.  At 
the  same  moment,  a  tomahawk  was  buried  in  the 
brain  of  the  woman.  Thus  was  she  saved  from  the 
unspeakable  horror  of  witnessing  the  murder  of  her 
two  children,  which  occurred  an  instant  later.  Lion, 
the  fierce  deerhound,  fell  fighting  for  them. 

At  the  first  volley,  John  Stacey  reached  for  his 
rifle,  but  slipped  and  fell  prone  upon  the  floor.  The 
second  shower  of  bullets  flew  over  his  head.  Leap- 
ing to  his  feet,  he  rushed  toward  the  door,  shouting 
the  name  of  Marie.  Beaten  back  by  the  tomahawks 
of  the  Indians,  he  sprang  up  the  ladder  to  the 
loft.  As  he  left  the  room  below,  he  saw  the 
slaughter  and  realized  that  the  savages  were  giving 
no  quarter.  Frantically  he  tore  at  the  clapboards  of 
the  roof.  At  last,  he  was  able  to  pull  himself 
through  the  opening,  and  felt  the  cold  air  upon  his 
fevered  brow.  Murmuring  — "  Marie !  Marie !  " — 
he  crawled  along  the  comb  of  the  roof  and  prepared 
to  drop  to  the  ground.  But  the  savages  were  on 
the  alert.  With  yells  of  fiendish  delight,  they 
levelled  their  guns  at  him. 

"  For  God's  sake,  spare  me !  "  he  called  to  them. 
"  I'm  the  only  one  left !  " 

The  red  imps  whooped  —  and  fired.     A  convul- 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  281 

sive  shudder,  and  he  fell  with  the  one  word  — 
"  Marie  " —  on  his  lips.  Faithful  John  Stacey !  He 
deserved  a  better  fate ! 

The  two  Bullard  brothers,  in  the  lower  cabin,  were 
not  aware  of  the  attack,  until  aroused  by  the  shots. 
They  reached  the  open  air,  just  in  time  to  hear  John 
Stacey's  appeal  for  mercy,  and  to  witness  his  brutal 
murder.  Stealing  into  the  forest  near  at  hand,  they 
made  their  escape.  When  a  hundred  yards  from  the 
cabin,  they  heard  the  Indians'  yells  of  baffled  rage 
at  finding  the  nest  empty  and  the  birds  gone.  The 
young  men  were  not  pursued ;  and  that  night  they 
bore  the  news  of  the  massacre  to  Waterford  and 
Wolf  Creek  Mills. 

The  comfortable  farmhouse  of  Obadiah  Brokaw 
'today  stands  upon  the  site  of  the  log  hut  occupied 
by  the  two  brothers,  who  alone  of  all  the  company 
escaped  death  or  capture  at  the  hands  of  the  savages. 

As  they  were  looting  the  blockhouse,  the  savages 
discovered  Philip  Stacey  in  hiding.  A  dozen  toma- 
hawks were  raised  to  brain  him ;  but  the  red-headed 
warrior  who  had  led  Marie  from  the  upper  cabin, 
leaped  in  front  of  the  uplifted  weapons  and  shouted 
in  English : 

"  Hold !  There  has  been  enough  of  this  cursed 
butchery.  The  youth  is  my  prisoner." 

Young  Stacey  caught  his  savior  around  the  knees 
and  murmured  his  thanks. 

"  Get  up,"  the  other  cried  roughly,  "  and  come 
with  me !  " 


282  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

The  young  man  obeyed  ;  but,  as  he  looked  the  red- 
haired  brave  full  in  the  face,  he  uttered  the  involun- 
tary exclamation : 

"Red  Wallace!" 

"  Sh  —  !  "  cautioned  the  outlaw.  "  Yes,  Red 
Wallace.  In  my  excitement,  I  betrayed  myself. 
But  if  you  value  your  life,  keep  your  secret  to  your- 
self. Tell  not  a  living  soul.  Cbme !  " 

Wallace  led  Philip  from  the  room,  pinioned  his 
arms  behind  him,  and  gave  him  into  the  care  of  two 
warriors.  Marie  had  regained  consciousness ;  and 
was  weeping,  and  calling  for  relatives  and  friends. 
By  the  orders  of  Red  Wallace,  a  litter  was  made  of 
boughs  and  bedding,  upon  which  she  was  placed. 
The  wind  had  fallen,  but  the  night  air  was  bitter 
cold.  Her  captors  wrapped  quilts  around  her  and, 
raising  her  upon  the  shoulders  of  four  stolid  braves, 
set  out  upon  their  journey.  The  light  of  the  burn- 
ing blockhouse  followed  them,  as  they  left  the  clear- 
ing and  proceeded  along  the  bank  of  the  river.  Of 
the  five  male  prisoners,  Philip  Stacey  only  was  per- 
mitted to  walk  close  to  the  litter  bearing  the  young 
woman;  the  other  four — Isaac  Choate,  Francis 
Choate,  James  Batten  and  Thomas  Shaw  —  were 
kept  in  the  front  of  the  column. 

As  the  party  left  the  eastern  bank  of  the  stream 
and  started  across  the  ice,  a  dark  form  flitted  from 
tree  to  tree,  in  pursuit.  When  they  reached  the  op- 
posite shore  and  took  up  their  line  of  march  toward 
Bald  Eagle  valley,  the  same  shadowy  form  trotted 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  283 

softly  in  their  footsteps.  After  fifteen  minutes' 
rapid  walking,  the  Indians  stopped  and  held  a  con- 
sultation. Then  a  small  band  of  warriors  left  the 
main  body,  and  climbing  the  ridge  of  hills  that 
skirts  the  river,  set  off  toward  Waterford  and  Wolf 
Creek  Mills. 

The  main  party  moved  forward ;  but  scarcely  were 
they  in  motion,  when  the  sharp  crack  of  a  rifle  rang 
out,  and  a  painted  brave  threw  up  his  hands  and 
dropped  dead  in  his  tracks.  For  a  few  moments 
consternation  reigned.  There  was  no  moon,  but  a 
subdued  starlight  faintly  illuminated  the  forest. 
Several  Indians  crept  cautiously  in  the  direction 
whence  the  shot  came ;  but  discovering  no  trace  of 
the  daring  marksman  soon  returned.  Philip  Sta- 
cey  heard  Red  Wallace  mutter  — "  One  of  the  set- 
tlers that  escaped  from  the  lower  cabin !  "  Then  the 
outlaw  began  to  talk  in  the  Delaware  tongue;  and 
the  young  man  could  glean  nothing  further. 

Stationing  two  of  their  number  among  the  trees, 
to  intercept  the  avenger,  the  redskins,  resumed  their 
journey.  They  proceeded  up  Bald  Eagle  Creek,  to 
the  dividing  ridge  that  separates  it  from  Little  Wolf 
Creek,  crossed  the  divide,  and  descended  into  the 
valley  of  the  latter  stream.  On  the  narrow  strip  of 
bottom-land  at  the  base  of  the  hills,  they  went  into 
camp  for  the  night ;  but  not  until  another  warrior 
had  yielded  up  his  life  to  the  mysterious  Nemesis. 

The  savages  built  roaring  fires,  withed  the  pris- 
oners to  small  saplings,  and,  placing  sentries  among 


284  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

the  trees  beyond  the  range  of  the  firelight,  lay  down 
to  sleep.  Red  Wallace  arranged  a  bed  for  Marie, 
but  did  not  speak  to  her.  The  poor  girl's  faculties 
were  so  benumbed  by  the  horrible  events  of  the 
night,  that  she  hardly  realized  where  she  was ;  and 
it  was  well  for  her  that  such  was  the  case.  Philip 
Stacey  was  placed  with  the  other  prisoners.  Left 
alone,  Marie  at  last  sobbed  herself  asleep.  But  in 
her  dreams  she  frequently  started,  and  murmured 
the  names  of  the  children  and  pleaded  with  Paul  to 
come  to  her  aid. 

The  next  morning-  the  Indians  cooked  for  break- 
fast a  part  of  the  food  that  they  had  obtained  at  Big 
Bottom,  giving  their  captives  a  liberal  allowance. 
Then  they  held  a  prolonged  council.  The  whites 
could  not  understand  what  was  said ;  but  they  knew 
a  wordy  war  was  in  progress  between  the  principal 
chief  and  Red  Wallace.  At  the  end  of  an  hour,  the 
dispute  was  brought  to  a  sudden  close.  The  chief 
mounted  a  fallen  log  and  made  a  ringing  appeal  to 
his  warriors,  to  which  they  listened  with  respectful 
attention.  When  the  Indian  had  finished,  Wallace 
leaped  upon  the  log  and  addressed  his  copper- 
colored  allies.  As  a  result  the  party  again  divided — 
one-half  of  the  braves  joining  the  chief,  and  the 
other  half  casting  their  lots  with  the  outlaw.  The 
chief  took  the  five  male  captives,  and  crossing  the 
stream  set  out  for  the  distant  villages  upon  the  Mau- 
mee;  while  Wallace  and  his  companions,  with 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  285 

Marie,  proceeded  up  the  valley,  toward  the  hunting- 
camp  upon  the  Tuscarawas. 

As  the  two  parties  disappeared  among  the  trees,  a 
solitary  Indian  arose  from  the  shelter  of  a  hazel 
copse,  and  retraced  his  course  toward  the  Muskin- 
gum.  It  was  Silverheels ! 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

ASA  and  Eleazer  Bullard  were  the  only  members 
of  the  Big  Bottom  settlement  that  escaped 
death  or  capture.  When  the  two  brothers  fled  from 
the  lower  cabin,  they  dodged  nimbly  from  tree  to 
tree,  and  were  soon  hidden  in  the  depth  of  the  forest. 
Here  they  paused.  They  heard  the  crash  of  blows 
on  the  cabin  door,  and  the  Indians'  yells  of  rage  and 
disappointment ;  and  they  expected  to  have  a  dozen 
of  the  red  fiends  hot  upon  their  trail.  Night  en- 
veloped them,  as  they  drew  near  together  and  con- 
versed in  cautious  undertones. 

"Hark!  Do  you  hear  any  sounds  of  pursuit?" 
Asa  whispered. 

"  None ;  they're  not  following  us,"  the  brother 
answered. 

"  We  can  do  nothing  for  our  friends  —  they're 
beyond  mortal  aid,"  Asa  remarked,  after  a  minute's 
silence.  "  Let's  hasten  to  warn  the  settlers  at  Wolf 
Creek  Mills  and  Waterford." 

"  Yes,  come  —  look !  They've  fired  the  block- 
house ! " 

Eleazer  pointed  to  a  glow  that  lighted  the  heavens 
above  the  clearing.     The  light  grew  and  spread  until 
it  illuminated  the  distant  tree-tops  and  penetrated 
far  into  the  dark  recesses  of  the  forest. 
(286) 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  287 

"  Come !  "  Asa  exclaimed.  "  We  must  hasten  or 
we  may  arrive  too  late.  May  God  forgive  the  ignor- 
ant savages  for  this  night's  work ;  /  never  can !  " 

They  set  off  through  the  cold  and  darkness  of  the 
winter  night.  Their  course  led  them  straight  down 
the  river  toward  the  hunting  camp  of  Captain  Rog- 
ers, four  miles  below.  Arousing  him,  they  told  of 
the  calamity.  The  captain  and  his  companion,  a 
Mohican  Indian  named  Dick  Layton,  joined  them; 
and  without  delay  the  four  hastened  across  the  hills 
toward  Wolf  Creek  Mills.  At  ten  o'clock  they  ar- 
rived and  gave  the  alarm. 

In  the  words  of  the  early  historian :  "  On  an- 
nouncing the  news  of  the  attack  on  Big  Bottom  and 
the  probable  approach  of  the  Indians  to  the  Mills, 
great  was  the  consternation  and  alarm  of  the  helpless 
women  and  children.  Several  additional  families 
had  joined  this  station  since  the  year  seventeen 
hundred  and  eighty-nine ;  but  a  number  of  the  lead- 
ing men  were  absent,  to  attend  the  court  of  quarter- 
sessions,  which  was  to  sit  at  Marietta,  on  Monday. 
This  rendered  their  condition  still  more  desperate, 
in  case  of  an  attack,  which  they  had  every  reason  to 
expect  before  daylight  in  the  morning.  The  gloom 
of  night  greatly  added  to  their  distress  and  gave 
energy  to  their  fears.  Under  the  direction  of  Cap- 
tain Rogers,  whp  had  been  familiar  with  similar 
events,  the  inhabitants,  amounting  to  about  thirty 
souls,  principally  women  and  children,  were  col- 
lected into  the  largest  and  strongest  cabin.  *  *  * 


288  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  Into  this  cabin,  they  brought  a  few  of  their  most 
valuable  goods,  with  all  the  tubs,  kettles  and  pails 
they  could  muster  —  which  Captain  Rogers  directed 
to  be  filled  with  water  from  the  creek,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  extinguishing  fire,  should  the  Indians  at- 
tempt to  burn  the  house,  which  was  one  of  their  most 
common  modes  of  attack.  The  door  was  strongly 
barred  and  the  windows  made  fast;  the  men,  seven 
in  number,  were  posted  in  the  loft,  who,  by  removing 
a  few  chunks  between  the  logs,  with  here  and  there 
a  shingle  from  the  roof,  soon  made  portholes  from 
which  to  fire  upon  the  enemy.  Like  a  prudent  sol- 
dier, their  leader  posted  one  man  as  a  sentry  on  the 
outside  of  the  house,  under  cover  of  a  fence,  to  give 
timely  notice  of  their  approach.  It  was  a  long  and 
weary  night,  never  to  be  forgotten  by  the  mothers 
and  children,  who  occupied  the  room  below  and 
thought  they  should  be  first  sacrificed,  if  the  Indians 
entered  the  house.  Just  before  daylight,  the  senti- 
nel gave  notice  of  their  approach.  Several  were  ob- 
scurely seen  through  the  gloom  of  night,  near  the 
sawmill,  and  their  movements  distinctly  heard  as 
they  stepped  on  some  loose  boards.  Their  tracks 
were  also  seen  the  next  morning  in  some  patches  of 
snow.  *  *  *  * 

"  A  messenger  was  dispatched  early  in  the  night 
to  give  the  alarm  to  the  people  at  Waterford,  and 
two  runners  were  sent  to  Marietta.  Nothing  could 
better  demonstrate  the  courage  and  humanity  of 
Captain  Rogers  than  his  conduct  in  this  affair,  thus 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  289 

to  weaken  his  own  means  of  defense,  by  parting  with 
some  of  his  most  active  and  brave  men  to  notify  the 
sleeping  settlers  of  their  danger,  when  he  had  every 
reason  to  expect  an  attack  from  an  overwhelming 
force  in  a  few  hours." 

All  through  the  tedious  hours  of  the  long  winter 
night,  speedy  messengers  bore  the  warning  words  to 
the  scattered  cabins  of  the  Waterford  settlement ; 
and  the  madly  alarmed  colonists  rushed  to  the  block- 
house and  prepared  for  the  attack  that  never  came. 
As  the  cold,  gray  dawn  crept  into  the  valley,  two 
exhausted  runners  reached  Marietta,  and  told  of  the 
fate  of  Big  Bottom  and  the  danger  at  Wolf  Creek 
Mills  and  Waterford.  The  cannons  at  Campus 
Martius  and  Fort  Harmer  spread  the  news  through- 
out the  village.  Two  sturdy-limbed,  fleet-footed 
young  men  bore  the  word  of  warning,  to  Belpre. 
General  alarm  and  consternation  prevailed.  It  was 
the  universal  opinion  that  Big  Bottom  was  de- 
stroyed ;  Waterford  and  Wolf  Creek  Mills,  doomed  ; 
and  Marietta  and  Belpre,  seriously  threatened. 
Nothing  could  be  done  except  to  prepare  for  the 
worst  and  hope  and  pray  for  the  best. 

A  half  hour  before  the  arrival  of  the  two  runners 
from  Waterford,  Paul  Graydon  and  Gumbo  had 
started  for  Big  Bottom,  with  a  hand-sled  laden  with 
corn,  salt  and  ammunition.  Both  were  swift  skaters 
—  having  learned  in  New  England  when  Paul  was  a 
student  at  college ;  but  the  snow  on  the  ice  impeded 
their  movements,  and  their  progress  was  labored  and 
19 


ago  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

slow.  When  a  few  miles  away,  they  heard  the 
reverberating  boom  of  the  cannons  at  Marietta. 

"  What's  the  meaning  of  that?  "  asked  Paul. 

"  I  doesn't  know,  Marse  Paul  —  I  doesn't," 
Gumbo  replied  with  a  vigorous  shake  of  the  head. 
"  It  must  be  de  sojers  at  de  fort,  salubricatin'  de  new 
year." 

"  It's  not  that,"  the  young  Englishman  returned 
positively ;  "  this  is  the  third  of  the  month.  I  can- 
not understand  it.  Something  serious  is  amiss." 

"  Dar  dey  goes  ag'in  —  boom  —  boom !  —  two  ob 
'em!" 

"  Those  are  the  cannon  at  Fort  Harmer,"  Paul 
said  as  he  bowed  his  head  and  listened ;  "  the  other 
reports  were  at  Campus  Martius." 

The  roar  of  the  brass  pieces  echoed  over  the 
wooded  slopes,  and  died  out  among  the  distant  hills. 
After  several  minutes,  Paul  remarked : 

"  Let's  resume  our  journey.  Whatever  may  have 
been  the  cause,  it  has  ceased ;  and  we  shall  learn 
nothing  by  tarrying  longer." 

"  P'r'aps  we  better  go  back  an'  see  w'at  was  de 
matter,  Marse  Paul." 

"  No ;  we  shall  be  weary  enough  when  we  reach 
Big  Bottom,  without  retracing  a  part  of  our  course. 
The  sun's  rising,  and  soon  the  ice  will  be  softening. 
We  have  no  time  to  lose." 

When  they  reached  Waterford,  the  sun  was  high, 
and  the  half-melted  snow  and  ice  formed  a  thin 
slush  through  which  the  sled  dragged  heavily.  As 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R  291 

they  were  toiling  past,  a  man,  with  a  rifle  in  his 
hand,  ran  swiftly  down  the  bank  to  intercept  them. 

"  Hello!  Where  are  you  going?"  he  called,  as 
he  flourished  his  gun  and  beckoned  them  to  stop. 

"  To  Big  Bottom,"  Paul  replied,  as  he  paused  and 
waited  for  the  other  to  come  out  to  him. 

The  man  moved  slowly  over  the  wet  ice,  balancing 
himself  with  his  gun.  When  he  reached  Graydon's 
side,  he  inquired : 

"  Where  do  you  come  from  ?  " 

"  Marietta." 

"  You  say  you're  going  to  Big  Bottom?  " 

"Yes." 

"  You  haven't  heard  the  news,  then  ?  " 

"  What  news  ?  "  Paul  asked,  quickly,  his  lips  pal- 
ing and  a  feeling  of  dread  taking  hold  upon  him. 

"  The  Indians  attacked  the  settlement  last  night, 
and*  killed  all  but  the  two  Bullard  boys,"  the  man  an- 
swered quietly,  as  he  set  one  foot  upon  the  sled  and 
leaned  upon  his  rifle.  "  They  brought  the  word  to 
Wolf  Creek  Mills.  We  got  it  here  about  eleven 
o'clock  last  night.  Two  runners  were  sent  to  Ma- 
rietta ;  but  they  went  across  the  country,  and  I  sup- 
pose they  hadn't  got  there  when  you  left.  It's  aw- 
ful—" ' 

Paul  Graydon  heard  no  more.  Every  drop  of 
blood  forsook  his  features.  His  brain  reeled  and  a 
black  wave  swept  over  him. —  "  Dead,  dead !  All 
dead  —  all  gone !  "  he  moaned,  as  he  dropped  back 
upon  the  sled. 


292  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  I  didn't  know  he  had  friends  in  the  massacre," 
said  the  man,  sympathetically. 

Gumbo  stood  like  an  ebony  statue  for  a  moment. 
Then,  as  his  master  hardly  moved,  the  faithful  fel- 
low exclaimed  suddenly  in  excitement : 

"  De  little  gal's  callin'  to  you,  Marse  Paul !  I 
hears  'er  voice,  an'  she's  sayin'  — '  Paul !  Paul ! 
Help  —  help !  '  She  isn't  dead,  Marse  Paul ;  I  knows 
somehow  dat  she  isn't !  'Spect  dat  Red  Wallace  has 
done  gone  took  'er  — " 

The  effect  of  these  words  upon  the  young  En- 
glishman was  magical.  He  struggled  to  his  feet 
and  stared  wildly  around  him.  The  settler  came 
forward  and  said  kindly : 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  shock  you,  stranger ;  I  didn't 
know  you  belonged  at  Big  Bottom.  It  isn't  so  bad 
as  reported,  I  guess.  The  Bullard  brothers  escaped 
while  the  fight  was  in  progress,  and  don't  know  how 
many  were  taken  captive.  Your  friends  may  be 
alive.  Don't  give  up  all  hope." 

"  Dat's  good  news,  Marse  Paul ! "  the  black  said 
consolingly.  "  Cheer  up,  an'  we'll  done  find  de  little 
gal,  an'  git  'er  outen  de  clutches  ob  dat  Red  Wal- 
lace — " 

"  No,  she  isn't  dead,"  Paul  said  with  white  lips. 
"  You're  right,  Red  Wallace  is  at  the  bottom  of  this. 
He  has  taken  her  captive.  But  oh,  God!  captivity 
among  the  Indians  —  in  the  power  of  such  a  man  — 
is  a  fate  worse  than  death !  " 

"  Don't  say  dat,  Marse  Paul !    Long  as  she's  ru- 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  293 

minatin*  'mong  de  red  debils,  dar's  hope.  But  if  she 
was  libin'  wid  de  dead,  dar  wouldn't  be  none." 

"  True !  "  Paul  cried.  "  Let's  delay  no  longer. 
Come,  Gumbo ! " 

"  You  don't  mean  to  go  on  to  the  settlement  alone 
do  you  ?  "  the  settler  inquired. 

"  Yes,"  Paul  answered  shortly. 

"  Wait  until  tomorrow ;  a  number  of  men  are 
going  up  there  to  bury  the  bodies." 

Graydon  shudderingly  replied : 

"  No ;  I  go  today,  and  alone." 

"  I  goes  wid  you,  Marse  Paul,  doesn't  I  ?  "  Gumbo 
asked. 

"  If  you  choose  —  yes,  of  course  you  go  with  me." 

"  You  take  your  lives  in  your  hands  to  go  up  there 
alone,"  the  settler  said,  earnestly.  "  If  we  weren't 
momentarily  expecting  an  attack  here,  I'd  go  with 
you." 

"  There's  no  danger  in  visiting  Big  Bottom,"  Paul 
replied ;  "  and  you'll  not  be  attacked." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  the  man  in  great 
surprise. 

"  I  mean  that  the  savages  have  accomplished  their 
purpose,  and  have  beaten  a  retreat.  I  haven't  time 
to  explain  further." 

Leaving  the  sled-load  of  goods  to  the  settler,  and 
taking  only  some  salt  and  ammunition,  Paul  and 
Gumbo  continued  their  journey.  Neither  ut- 
tered a  word,  as  they  pushed  swiftly  up  the  stream. 
Paul's  strokes  were  nervous  and  erratic,  but  strong 


294  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

and  rapid ;  and  his  companion  had  great  difficulty  in 
keeping-  pace  with  him.  The  water  upon  the  surface 
of  the  ice  rose  in  fine  spray  as  they  cut  their  way 
through  it,  and  saturated  their  nether  garments ;  and 
the  sweat  trickled  down  their  cheeks.  On  —  on, 
with  unflagging  energy,  mile  after  mile,  they  glided, 
until  at  last  they  turned  a  bend  —  and  the  little  clear- 
ing upon  the  eastern  shore  came  in  sight.  Then  it 
was  that  Paul  slacked  his  headlong  speed. 

"  Gumbo,  old  friend," — And  his  voice  trembled. — 
"  yonder  lies  all  that  is  left  of  our  little  colony.  The 
despoiler  has  been  there.  Help  me  to  bear  the  bur- 
den of  my  grief,  whatever  we  may  discover !  " 

As  they  proceeded,  the  charred  and  blackened 
walls  of  the  blockhouse  rose  into  view ;  for  the  green 
beech  logs  had  successfully  resisted  the  flames. 
There  they  stood,  a  sable  monument  to  the  hardy 
pioneers  who  found  a  grave  within  the  inclosure. 
Paul  set  his  jaws  and  clenched  his  hands,  until  the 
nails  cut  into  his  calloused  palms.  Not  a  sign  of 
life  was  visible  about  the  ruined  settlement.  On 
reaching  the  shore,  the  two  friends  found  their  feet 
benumbed  with  the  ice-cold  water  and  the  pressure 
of  the  skate  straps ;  and  it  was  difficult  for  them  to 
stand  alone. 

"  Marse  Paul,"  Gumbo  said  calmly,  "  you  set 
down  on  dis  stone,  an'  let  me  go  up  dar  an'  see  w'at 
I  discobers.  Dat's  de  bes'  way  —  de  sight  may  be 
too  much  fo'  you.  I'll  be  back  in  jes  a  minute, 
Marse  Paul." 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R  295 

"  No,"  Paul  answered  resolutely,  "  I  must  know 
the  worst  at  once ;  I  must  see  for  myself !  " 

His  handsome,  clear-cut  features,  accentuated  by 
the  raven  blackness  of  his  ringletted  hair,  shone 
ivory-white  in  the  midday  sun.  His  stiffened  limbs 
trembled  under  him,  as  he  painfully  struggled  up 
the  slope  that  led  to  the  level  land  on  which  stood 
the  ruins  of  the  ill-fated  blockhouse.  Gumbo  kept 
at  his  side  and  watched  him  closely,  but  said  noth- 
ing. They  reached  the  top  of  the  short  grade  and 
stood  there,  panting  from  exertion  and  excitement. 
To  right  and  to  left,  lay  the  lower  and  upper  cabins, 
tenantless,  but  untouched.  Directly  in  front,  was 
the  funeral  pyre  that  held  the  secret  they  had  come 
to  learn.  Paul  shook  himself  and  staggered  a  step 
forward.  Suddenly  the  negro  caught  his  compan- 
ion's arm  in  a  vise-like  grip  and  whispered : 

"  Marse  Paul,  dar's  one  of  dem  murderin'  Injin 
debils  dis  berry  minute !  " 

"  Where  ?  "  the  other  asked  fiercely  as  he  gripped 
the  stock  of  his  rifle. 

"  Jes  come  from  de  woods  down  'hind  de  upper 
cabin.  Dar!  You's  can  see  his  shoulder  an'  arm 
stickin'  'round  de  corner  —  dar's  de  side  ob  his 
head!  He's  lookin'  at  de  blockhouse.  Gib  it  to 
him,  Marse  Paul,  gib  it  to  him!  De  obnoxerous 
calamity ! " 

Paul  was  on  the  point  of  flinging  his  gun  to  his 
shoulder,  when  Silverheels  stepped  into  the  open 
and  came  toward  them.  He  leaned  his  rifle  against 


2g6  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

a  stump,  and,  holding  out  both  hands  to  the  young 
man,  said  in  a  heartfelt  way : 

"  White  Eagle,  it  grieves  the  heart  of  Silverheels 
to  see  you  here.  Red  Fox  has  visited  the  lodges  of 
the  palefaces ;  and  the  Blue-eyed  Pigeon  is  gone." 

"  She  is  alive,  then ! "  Paul  cried,  the  light  of  a 
great  joy  illuminating  his  features. 

"  Ugh !  " 

"Where  is  she  —  where  has  he  taken  her?" — 
The  speaker  was  trembling  with  feverish  eagerness. 

"  The  Blue-eyed  Pigeon  is  unharmed ;  but  her 
plumage  is  ruffled  and  stained.  The  Red  Fox  has 
taken  her  to  his  den  upon  the  Tuscarawas." 

"  You  are  my  red  brother,  Silverheels.  Come 
with  me  —  let's  set  out  to  recover  her!  Come  — 
we  must  not  delay !  " 

The  Indian  tenderly  laid  his  hand  upon  the  other's 
shoulder  and  replied : 

"  It  is  the  heart  of  White  Eagle  that  speaks  now ; 
not  his  head.  My  white  brother  is  trembling  with 
hunger  and  fatigue.  He  could  not  follow  the  trail 
—  he  would  fall  to  the  earth.  See,  his  breath  is 
short  and  his  hand  shakes.  He  must  come  to  the 
lodge  of  Silverheels,  and  eat  and  sleep.  When  the 
sun  again  rises  from  his  bed,  we  shall  be  upon  the 
trail  of  Red  Fox  and  his  squaws." 

"  No  — no !  "  Paul  pleaded,  "  I'm  not  hungry  —  I 
need  no  sleep.  Let's  hasten  to  overtake  them !  " 

Silverheels  shook  his  head.  "  We  cannot  over- 
take the  Red  Fox.  He  glides  swiftly  through  the 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  297 

woods  and  over  the  rocks.  We  must  go  to  his  den 
to  find  the  Blue-eyed  Pigeon  —  the  Red  Fox  will 
not  devour  her." 

"  But  she's  in  that  man's  power  — "  Paul  began, 
growing  more  and  more  excited. 

Silverheels  pointed  toward  the  zenith,  and  inter- 
rupted him  with :  "  Has  my  white  brother  so  little 
faith  in  the  power  of  his  God?  " 

"  Dat's  a  home  shot,  Marse  Paul !  "  Gumbo  said, 
with  a  sound  in  his  throat  that  closely  resembled  a 
chuckle.  "  Dat's  right  down  good  sense,  ef  it  did 
come  from  an  Injin  debil!  " 

The  negro  received  a  scowl  from  the  Shawnee, 
but  rattled  on :  "  If  Silverheels's  to  he'p  us  git  de 
little  gal  back,  we's  got  to  foller  his  device  —  dat's 
all ;  kase  he  knows  mo'  erbout  red  foxes,  an'  red 
debils,  an'  Red  Wallaces  in  a  minute,  dan  we  does 
in  a  y'ar.  Dat  dar  renegadin'  Wallace  isn't  gwine 
to  harm  de  purty  little  gal ;  he's  jes'  kidnapered  'er, 
to  please  Miss  Hester,  an' — " 

"  Gumbo !  "  Paul  cried,  sharply. 

"Wat  is  it,  Marse  Paul?" 

"  You're  talking  too  much." 

Then,  turning  to  Silverheels,  the  young  man  con  • 
tinued :  "  Gumbo  is  right,  my  red  brother ;  you 
know  much  more  than  we.  I  want  you  to  help  me 
to  rescue  her  who  is  dearer  than  life  to  me.  I'll 
leave  all  to  you.  What  do  you  know  of  the  mas- 
sacre? Was  my  friend,  John  Stacey,  taken  captive 
also?" 


2Q8  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  The  friend  of  White  Eagle  lies  yonder,  with 
many  others." — And  the  Shawnee  pointed  to  the 
blockhouse  ruins  a  few  yards  off. 

Paul  covered  his  face  with  his  hands  and  bowed 
his  head  in  profound  grief.  Silverheels  and  Gumbo 
maintained  a  respectful  silence.  After  a  few  mo- 
ments, the  young  man  dashed  his  sleeve  across  his 
eyes  and,  looking  up,  asked  in  a  choking  voice : 

"  And  —  and  Isaac  Meeks  and  family  —  are  they 
dead,  also?  " 

"  Ugh  !  "  the  red  man  replied  stolidly. 

"  A  wholesale  massacre ! "  Graydon  groaned. 
"  See  what  a  horrible  thing  your  people  have  done, 
Silverheels !  " 

The  Indian  started  back  a  step,  and  a  look  of 
malignant  and  revengeful  hatred  swept  over  his 
rugged  features.  Drawing  himself  up  stiffly,  he  an- 
swered : 

"  I  have  no  people !  The  palefaces  discard  me ; 
and  the  red  men  disown  me.  I  am  a  Shawnee  — 
but  I  am  alone.  I  have  no  people !  " 

"  Forgive  me,"  Paul  returned  humbly ;  "  I  didn't 
mean  to  hurt  your  feelings.  I  cannot  expect  you  to 
feel  as  I  do,  about  this  terrible  affair.  Tell  me  what 
you  know  of  it." 

The  three  men  —  representatives  of  three  distinct 
races  —  seated  themselves  upon  a  fallen  tree-trunk ; 
and  the  red  hunter  began,  speaking  in  the  third  per- 
son, as  was  his  habit  in  extended  narrative : 

"  Silverheels  was  far  up  the  Bald  Eagle,  tracking 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R  299 

a  wounded  buck.  The  sun  wrapped  himself  in 
cloud  robes  and  lay  down  to  rest,  and  the  lean 
shadows  spread  themselves  through  the  forest  and 
covered  the  trail.  He  gave  up  the  chase  and  started 
to  return  to  his  lodge  upon  the  Moose  Eye;  but  as 
he  descended  from  a  hillside  into  the  valley  of  the 
Bald  Eagle,  he  discovered  the  tracks  of  many  moc- 
casins in  the  snow,  and  said  to  himself,  '  The  Dela- 
wares  and  the  Wyandots  are  upon  the  warpath,  and 
the  palefaces  —  the  friends  of  White  Eagle  —  are 
in  danger.'  Silverheels  remembered  his  promise  to 
his  white  brother,  and  hurried  toward  the  lodges  of 
the  palefaces,  as  the  startled  fawn  flees  before  the 
baying  hounds;  but  he  came  too  late.  Red  Fox, 
with  many  Delawares  and  Wyandots,  was  there  be- 
fore him.  When  Silverheels  was  speeding  down 
the  river  like  an  arrow,  the  shifting  wind  brought  to 
his  ears  the  warwhoops  of  the  red  men  and  the  sharp 
voices  of  their  rifles.  Then  he  knew  that  the 
slaughter  had  begun,  and  that  the  Red  Fox  was  lap- 
ping blood  with  his  split  tongue." 

The  Shawnee  paused  and  Paul  asked : 

"  Did  you  see  the  massacre  ?  " 

The  Indian  replied :  "  No ;  Silverheels  did  not 
see  the  murder  of  the  palefaces.  When  he  arrived 
upon  the  scene,  the  bloody  work  was  done  and  the 
big  lodge  was  in  flames." 

"  Did  any  escape  ?  " 

"Ugh!" 

"  How  many?  " 


300  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

Silverheels  held  up  two  fingers  ?  " 

"  The  Billiard  brothers  ?  " 

"  The  two  palefaces  that  lived  in  the  little  lodge." 
—  And  he  pointed  to  the  lower  cabin. 

"  How  many  were  taken  captive  besides  Marie  ?  " 

The  Shawnee  raised  a  hand  with  the  fingers  out- 
spread. 

"Five?" 

"  Ugh." 

"Who  were  they?" 

"  The  four  that  dwelt  in  the  upper  lodge  and  th« 
brother  of  White  Eagle's  white  friend." 

"Philip  Stacey?" 

"Ugh!" 

"  And  all  the  others  are  dead  ?  " 

"Ugh!     They  are  dead." 

"  How  many  Delawares  and  Wyandots  were 
there,  Silverheels  ?  " 

"  More  than  my  white  brother  has  fingers  and 
toes." 

"  About  twenty-five  ?  " 

"  Ugh ! " 

"  W'at  did  dem  red  debils  do  w'en  dey'd  killed 
an'  kidnapered  eberybody  ?  "  Gumbo  inquired,  his 
eyes  rolled  upward  until  only  the  whites  were  visible. 

Silverheels  did  not  reply. 

"  Did  you  follow  them  ?  How  do  you  know  that 
Red  Fox  has  gone  to  his  den  upon  the  Tuscara- 
was  ?  "  Paul  asked. 

"  When  Red  Fox  with  his  squaw-braves  left  the 


/AT  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  301 

lodges  of  the  palefaces,  the  Shawnee  was  his 
shadow.  He  followed  them  as  they  crossed  upon 
the  ice  and  entered  the  wood ;  he  was  at  their  side 
when  they  halted.  When  Red  Fox  sent  a  few  of 
his  warriors  across  the  hills  to  frighten  the  pale- 
faces upon  Wolf  Creek  — " 

"  Did  he  do  that?  "  Graydon  interrupted. 

"  Ugh !  The  Red  Fox  is  sly ;  he  frightened  the 
hounds  to  keep  them  from  smelling  out  his  track. 
Silverheels  saw  all  and  understood.  His  rifle 
spoke ;  and  a  Delaware  started  on  his  long  journey 
toward  the  spirit-land.  The  Shawnee  followed  Red 
Fox  up  the  Bald  Eagle,  and  across  to  Little  Wolf 
Creek.  Again  his  rifle  spoke ;  and  a  Wyandot  has- 
tened to  overtake  the  Delaware  that  had  gone  before. 
By  the  ice-bound  stream,  the  enemies  of  the  Shaw- 
nee built  their  camp  fires  and  spent  the  night.  This 
morning  a  disagreement  arose  between  Red  Fox  and 
the  chief  of  the  Wyandots.  Their  slippery  tongues 
dropped  many  words.  The  chief  of  the  Wyandots 
would  go  to  their  village  upon  the  Maumee ;  the  Red 
Fox  would  go  to  their  hunting  camp  upon  the  Tus- 
carawas.  The  band  divided,  a  part  going  with  the 
Wyandot,  and  a  part  with  Red  Fox." 

"  And  the  prisoners  ?  "  Paul  suggested  as  Silver- 
heels  ceased  speaking. 

"  The  blue-eyed  maiden  has  gone  to  the  sparkling 
waters  of  the  Tuscarawas  •  the  others,  to  the  black- 
waters  of  the  Maumee." 

Graydon  arose  and  said :    "  I  must  go  to  the  ruins 


302  /AT  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

of  the  blockhouse  and  search  for  my  dead  friends ; 
I  cannot  leave  until  they  have  received  decent  bu- 
rial." 

He  walked  toward  the  ruins.  Silverheels  and 
Gumbo  silently  followed.  As  they  reached  the 
yawning  doorway  and  peeped  in  at  the  blackened 
corpses  half  covered  by  ashes  and  charred  timbers, 
the  negro  remarked: 

"  Marse  Paul,  dar  comes  some  men  'cross  de  riber 
on  de  ice." 

The  new  arrivals  proved  to  be  Captain  Rogers 
and  a  few  companions  from  Wolf  Creek  Mills,  who 
had  come  to  look  after  the  interment  of  the  dead. 
Paul  and  his  friends  joined  them  in  their  melancholy 
task.  Few  of  the  bodies  could  be  identified.  The 
ground  outside  being  frozen,  the  pioneers  consigned 
the  dead  to  a  common  grave  within  the  walls  of  the 
blockhouse.  Today  their  bones  moulder  in  the  cen- 
ter of  a  blooming  clover  meadow ;  and  no  monument 
marks  the  spot.  The  flowing  river  ripples  a  song  to 
them,  the  burden  of  whose  refrain  is  —  "  Peace ;" 
and  the  south  wind  whispers  —  "  Eternal  rest !  " 


CHAPTER  XXV 

WHEN  the  marauding  band  of  Indians,  that  had 
destroyed  Big  Bottom,  divided  upon  Little 
Wolf  Creek,  the  Wyandot  chieftain  took  with  him 
the  five  male  captives,  while  Red  Wallace  retained 
possession  of  Marie  Fontanelle.  With  the  subse- 
quent fortunes  of  the  five  men,  this  narrative  has 
nought  to  do.  Four  of  the  five  returned  to  their 
friends,  and  young  Philip  Stacey  died  a  prisoner, 
upon  the  Maumee.  Marie's  name  does  not  appear 
in  the  old  chronicles  with  those  of  the  other  captives, 
for  the  reason  that  it  was  not  certainly  known,  until 
years  after  the  massacre,  just  who  had  been  killed 
and  who  had  been  captured.  Besides,  few  knew 
she  was  at  Big  Bottom  at  the  time  of  the  attack. 

The  braves  took  turns  in  bearing  the  litter  upon 
which  the  young  woman  lay,  with  her  limbs  securely 
bound.  Wallace,  his  face  bedaubed  with  war  paint, 
marched  at  the  side  of  the  improvised  palanquin, 
with  impassive  countenance.  During  the  whole  of 
the  forenoon,  he  did  not  address  a  word  to  Marie. 
In  low,  guttural  accents,  he  gave  commands  to  the 
ten  warriors  that  composed  his  band ;  but  as  he 
spoke  in  the  Delaware  tongue,  the  girl  understood 
nothing  he  said. 

(303) 


304  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

The  day  grew  warm ;  and  the  melting  snow  filled 
the  watercourses  with  a  tumbling,  yellow  flood,  that 
retarded  the  progress  of  the  party,  causing  them  to 
make  wide  detours  to  ford  the  swollen  streams  in 
safety.  Poor  Marie !  She  had  aroused  from  her 
stupefied  condition  of  mind  and  fully  realized  what 
had  taken  place.  Her  nearest  and  dearest  friends 
were  dead,  and  she  was  a  bound  and  helpless  pris- 
oner among  the  savages.  Where  was  Paul? 
Would  he  follow  the  Indians  and  try  to  liberate  her  ? 
To  be  sure  he  would !  But  he  might  not  be  able  to 
overtake  them ;  and  if  he  were,  he  might  be  killed  in 
attempting  her  release.  She  shuddered  at  the 
thought  of  her  desperate  condition,  and  of  the  dan- 
ger Paul  would  encounter  should  he  attempt  to  save 
her.  She  was  a  woman  —  she  could  not  free  her- 
self, but  she  could  think  and  plan;  and  over  and 
over  in  her  mind,  she  evolved  project  after  project, 
only  to  cast  them  aside  as  impracticable.  The  sun 
beamed  into  her  eyes  ;  and  her  head  ached.  She  had 
not  touched  the  food  offered  her  at  breakfast,  and 
now  she  felt  faint  and  sick.  She  closed  her  eyes  to 
shut  out  the  sunlight;  and  the  swaying  motion  of 
the  litter  rocked  her  to  sleep. 

She  awoke  with  a  start.  Her  swinging  bed  was 
rocking  dangerously,  and  the  roar  of  surging  water 
was  in  her  ears.  She  lifted  her  head  and  saw  that 
her  captors  were  attempting  to  ford  a  broad,  swift 
creek.  She  heard  Wallace's  sharp  commands,  and 
the  grunts  and  exclamations  of  the  braves.  Sud- 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  305 

denly  the  feet  of  one  of  the  four  shot  from  under 
him,  and,  in  a  moment,  all  were  floundering  in  the 
water,  with  the  litter  and  its  occupant  atop  of  them. 
With  a  curse,  Red  Wallace  sprang  forward,  and, 
catching  her  in  his  arms,  exclaimed: 

"  Don't  be  frightened,  my  lovely  jade ;  I'll  get  you 
safely  to  shore.  Curses  on  those  awkward  brutes !  " 

She  looked  into  his  repulsive  countenance  be- 
smeared with  warpaint,  and  a  gleam  of  recognition 
flashed  into  her  eyes.  In  that  moment  she  knew 
him  as  the  red-haired  renegade,  who  had  been 
pointed  out  to  her  on  more  than  one  occasion  in  Ma- 
rietta. 

Once  on  the  bank,  the  Indians  kindled  a  fire  and 
commenced  the  preparation  of  their  midday  meal. 
Wallace  turned  to  Marie  and  said : 

"  I  see  by  your  face  that  you  know  me,  my  sweet 
maid." 

"I  —  I  don't  know  your  name,"  she  faltered. 

"  You've  seen  me,  though." 

"  Yes,  I've  seen  you." 

"At  Marietta?" 

"  At  Marietta." 

"  My  name's  Red  Wallace." 

Marie  made  no  reply. 

"  Since  you  recognize  me,"  he  continued,  "  we 
may  as  well  have  an  understanding.  However,  let 
me  release  you  first." 

He  took  a  keen-bladed,  ivory-handled  dagger 
from  his  belt  and  divided  the  thongs  that  bound  her 
20 


306  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

limbs.  Then,  dropping  the  knife  upon  the  ground, 
he  assisted  her  to  her  feet.  At  that  moment  an  al- 
tercation arose  between  two  of  the  Indians,  and  the 
outlaw  left  the  young  woman's  side  to  quell  the  dis- 
turbance. As  he  turned  his  back,  the  quick-witted 
French  girl  seized  the  dagger  he  had  dropped  and 
secreted  it  in  her  bosom. 

When  he  rejoined  her,  he  did  not  miss  the  dagger 
from  his  belt  and  made  no  inquiries. 

"  You  look  hungry  and  weary,"  were  his  first 
words.  "  Sit  down  upon  this  rock ;  I  want  to  talk  to 
you  while  they're  cooking  dinner." 

She  obeyed.  He  seated  himself  beside  her  and 
went  on : 

"  You're  my  prisoner  —  you  understand  that  ?  " 

"  I  understand,"  she  replied,  in  a  tone  that  was 
hardly  audible. 

"  Very  well.  As  you're  my  prisoner,  I  can  do 
with  you  as  I  wish.  I  can  have  you  tortured  and 
killed,  or  petted  and  pampered,  at  my  will.  I've 
tried  to  use  you  first  rate  thus  far;  and  I'm  going 
to  use  you  better  still — provided  you're  sensible. 
Unless  you  make  a  foolish  attempt  to  escape,  I 
shan't  again  bind  your  limbs.  Let  me  bring  you 
something  to  eat." 

He  went  to  the  fire,  around  which  the  Indians 
were  grouped,  and  procured  for  her  a  quantity  of 
the  stolen  bread  and  broiled  meat.  Then,  rejoining 
the  savages,  he  gorged  himself  with  half-cooked 
food,  washing  it  down  with  copious  draughts  of 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  307 

fiery  liquor  from  a  large  flask  he  carried  in  his  hunt- 
ing- shirt. 

After  resting  for  an  hour,  the  party  again  took  up 
the  line  of  march.  The  outlaw,  as  he  placed  Marie 
upon  the  litter,  leered  at  her  in  half-drunken  fashion 
and  whispered: 

"  I'm  pretty  good  to  you,  eh  ?  See  how  I've  dried 
your  wet  nest  for  you.  You  couldn't  give  me  a 
sweet  kiss,  could  you?  " 

She  drew  back  in  terror,  and  would  have  leaped 
to  the  ground,  but  he  caught  her  and  held  her  in 
place. 

"  There,  there !  None  of  that !  "  he  laughed 
coarsely.  "  I  don't  mean  to  force  my  attentions 
upon  you.  You  can't  learn  to  love  me  all  at  once  — 
but  you'll  come  around  all  right  in  time." 

Marie  trembled  with  fear  and  disgust. 

The  Indian  band  followed  the  course  of  the  creek 
they  had  crossed,  bearing  to  the  east  as  they  ad- 
vanced, and  came  out  into  the  valley  of  the  Muskin- 
gum,  a  few  miles  below  the  present  city  of  Zanes- 
ville.  Here,  at  the  peril  of  their  lives,  they  crossed 
upon  the  rotten  ice  that  was  ready  at  any  moment  to 
start  upon  its  voyage  down  the  river.  Reaching  the 
eastern  bank,  they  climbed  the  precipitous  hillside, 
and  pushed  onward  through  the  fast  darkening  for- 
est. At  nightfall  they  went  into  camp  under  the 
shelter  of  an  overhanging  cliff,  upon  the  bank  of  a 
brawling  brook. 

Marie  was  worn  out  and  would  have  lain  down  to 


joS  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

rest  at  once,  bat  the  outlaw  insisted  that  she  should 
wait  and  eat  something.  After  supper  he  spread 
her  couch  for  her  and,  sitting  down  beside  her, 
began: 

"  Now,  my  pretty  jade,  we  Ye  going  to  have  a  little 
cha:.  X ::':-. ing:  -ike  i:  :c  -.vhi'.e  a-.vay  the  tedious 
hours,  eh?" 

The  poor  girl  noted  that  he  had  been  drinking 
heavily,  and  her  heart  palpitated  with  alarm.  The 
Delawares  were  stretched  in  various  attitudes 
around  the  camp  fire  a  few  yards  distant,  and  she 
and  the  renegade  were  practically  alone.  His 
breath,  heavy  with  liquor,  sickened  and  disgusted 
her.  She  wished  sincerely  that  her  place  of  rest 
were  closer  to  the  camp-fire.  The  savage  redmen 
were  less  to  be  feared  than  the  brutal  white  at  her 
side. 

"  Please  leave  me,"  she  pleaded ;  "  I  am  weary  — 
I  do  not  desire  to  talk." 

"Don't  care  to  talk,  eh?"  he  sneered.  "I've 
been  too  kind  to  you.  You  need  taking  down  a  peg. 
Do  yon  know  why  I  led  the  redskins  against  the  set- 
tlement at  Big  Bottom?" 

"No." 

"  To  get  hold  of  you  —  that's  why.  And  do  you 
know  why  I  wanted  to  carry  you  off?  " 

"  I  do  not,"  she  replied,  turning  away  her  face. 

"  Hold  on! "  he  cried,  roughly.  "  None  of  your 
coyness  with  me.  You'll  find  me  gentle  enough  if 
you  don't  cross  me;  but  if  you  do,  look  out!  No 


W  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  309 

surliness,  miss!  There,  that's  better;  now  I'll  go 
on.  I  kidnaped  you  because  a  woman  hired  me  to 
do  it.  Wine  and  women  will  cause  the  most  up- 
right man  to  veer  from  the  straight  and  narrow 
way,  you  know."  And  again  he  laughed  a  coarse, 
brutal  laugh  that  had  in  it  little  of  mirth. 

Marie  was  interested  in  spite  of  herself.  Was 
the  outlaw  telling  the  truth?  Had  he  been  hired 
to  kidnap  her?  Like  a  flash  of  light,  the  truth 
came  to  her.  Turning  upon  her  companion,  she 
cried  scornfully : 

"  And  you  massacred  innocent  people  for  gold !  " 

"  Hello !  "  he  chuckled.  "  You're  getting  on  your 
dignity.  I  didn't  know  those  blue  eyes  could  flash 
fire  in  that  way.  By  zounds!  but  you're  beautiful 
—  beautiful  as  an  angel!  I'm  madly  in  love  with 
you—" 

"  Stop !  "  she  cried  imperiously,  "  I  will  not  hear 
such  talk  from  you.  You  insult  me !  " 

She  made  a  fine  show  of  bold  indignation;  al- 
though inwardly  trembling  with  fear.  For  the  mo- 
ment he  was  deceived. 

"  What  a  she  catamount  you  are,"  he  replied  with 
an  amused  grin  — "  all  teeth  and  claws !  But  I'll 
keep  my  distance  —  for  the  present  at  least."  And 
the  corners  of  his  sensual  mouth  twitched.  He  con- 
tinued : 

"  You  asked  me  a  question.  Yes,  I  led  my  Dela- 
ware and  Wyandot  hounds  down  to  Big  Bottom, 
and  let  them  lap  blood.  I  did  it  because  I  wanted 


3io  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R 

the  riches  that  had  been  promised  me,  for  carrying 
you  into  captivity.  Do  you  know  who's  to  pay  the 
bill?" 

"  Hester  Lovelace,"  was  the  quiet  reply. 

"  Ah !  I've  revealed  no  secret,  then ;  so  much  the 
better.  Yes,  it's  Hester  Lovelace.  She  wanted  re- 
venge and  so  did  I.  Your  coxcomb  of  a  lover,  Paul 
Gray  don,  jilted  Miss  Hester  and  gave  me  a  sound 
trouncing.  We  thirsted  for  revenge.  I  planned  to 
carry  you  into  captivity ;  she  agreed  to  pay  me  for 
doing  the  job  —  besides,  she  promised  to  marry  me 
and  share  her  estate  with  me.  Ha,  ha!  It's  won- 
derful what  a  fascination  I  exercise  over  the  fair 
sex.  I'm  irresistible  —  eh  ?  " 

Again  he  leered  at  Marie,  in  maudlin  fashion. 
She  did  not  deign  to  notice  him ;  and  he  resumed : 

"  The  job  was  a  success ;  you're  in  my  power  and 
Mr.  Paul  Graydon  is  disconsolate.  He  knows  noth- 
ing of  your  whereabouts.  The  redskins  call  me 
Red  Fox ;  and  the  name's  not  a  bad  one.  I  am  sly. 
Your  lover  will  track  the  Wyandots  to  the  Maumee 
—  and  get  killed  for  his  pains,  probably.  At  any 
rate,  he'll  not  find  you  there.  Then  he'll  retrace  his 
steps  to  Marietta;  and  abandon  the  quest.  Oh! 
I'm  a  sly  old  fox ;  I  planned  it  all  beforehand." 

He  complacently  rubbed  his  hands  and  chuckled. 
He  knew  he  was  inflicting  exquisite  torture ;  and  he 
enjoyed  it.  He  went  on : 

"  You  don't  appear  to  be  in  a  mood  for  talking. 
Very  well,  I  must  talk  the  more.  As  I  said,  Miss 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R  311 

Lovelace  promised  to  marry  me  and  share  with  me 
the  family  fortune.  But  since  I've  been  in  your 
sweet  society,  I've  made  up  my  mind  I  don't  care  to 
enter  the  married  relation  with  the  enchanting  Hes- 
ter —  with  all  her  lands  and  gold.  I've  fallen  head- 
over-ears  in  love  with  you,  my  woodland  sprite ;  and 
you  shall  be  my  squaw  and  keep  my  lodge  in  order. 
What  have  you  to  say  ?  " 

He  leaned  forward  as  he  finished  speaking  and 
attempted  to  take  her  in  his  arms.  With  a  cry,  she 
sprang  to  her  feet  and  thrust  her  hand  into  her 
bosom.  Crazed  with  liquor  and  unbridled  passion, 
he  staggered  toward  her,  attempting  to  fling  his 
arms  around  her  waist. 

"  Back !  "  she  screamed  shrilly,  "  back,  or  take  the 
consequences !  " 

He  laughed  recklessly,  but  did  not  pause.  A 
bright  object  flashed  in  the  faint  light  of  the  dying 
campfire ;  and,  with  a  hoarse  howl  of  rage  and  pain, 
Red  Wallace  fell  backward  and  rolled  down  the 
bank  into  the  noisy  brook.  Marie  slipped  away  in 
the  darkness.  Over  rocks  and  fallen  logs,  through 
briers  and  brambles,  she  ran.  The  curses  of  the 
renegade  and  the  confused  babel  of  voices  in  the 
Delaware  tongue  followed  her,  and  lent  energy  to 
her  lithe  limbs.  She  climbed  the  ridge  that  skirted 
the  deep,  narrow  valley ;  and  paused  to  ease  her 
labored  breathing  and  listen  for  sounds  of  pursuit. 
The  heavens  were  overcast  and  the  darkness  was  in- 
tense. A  few  large  drops  of  rain  began  to  patter 


312  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

upon  the  dead  leaves.  Faintly  there  came  to  her 
strained  sense  of  hearing,  the  indistinct  murmur  of 
human  accents;  and,  far  below  her,  she  saw  the 
glimmer  of  torches,  dancing  to  and  fro  like  will-o'- 
the-wisps. 

"  They  are  searching  for  me,"  she  panted ;  "  soon 
they'll  be  upon  my  trail.  I  must  hasten  —  I  must 
escape!  Where  shall  I  go  —  what  shall  I  do?  It 
matters  little ;  better  to  be  devoured  by  wild  beasts 
than  to  return  to  that  man's  loathsome  presence !  I 
wonder  if  I  wounded  him  seriously.  Hark !  they 
are  shouting  in  triumph ;  they  have  found  my  foot- 
prints. May  God  protect  and  help  me !  " 

In  the  darkness  of  the  rainy  night,  she  had  no 
idea  of  direction.  To  escape  from  the  dreaded  pres- 
ence of  Red  Wallace  was  her  one  thought.  She 
blundered  blindly  forward,  lacerating  the  delicate 
skin  of  her  hands  and  face  and  tearing  her  gar- 
ments to  tatters.  The  rain  fell  in  torrents ;  and  the 
wind,  in  fitful  gusts  and  swirls,  sobbed  through 
the  leafless  trees.  From  her  disheveled  hair  and 
saturated  garments  clinging  to  her,  the  water  ran  in 
streams.  How  long  she  heedlessly  hurried  onward 
she  never  knew.  Exhausted  at  last,  she  staggered 
into  the  shelter  of  a  friendly  ledge  of  rocks  and 
fell  upon  the  ground. 

When  she  awoke,  the  sun  was  shining  into  her  up- 
turned face.  She  attempted  to  rise,  but  fell  back 
with  a  groan.  Her  limbs  were  stiff  and  swollen, 
and  her  muscles  ached  excruciatingly.  After  re- 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  313 

peated  trials,  she  rose  and,  with  halting,  dragging 
footsteps,  left  the  shelter  where  she  had  slept, 
and  sought  a  drink  of  water. 

The  storm  of  the  night  before  had  cleared  the 
sky  and  rendered  the  air  pure  and  sweet.  The  sun 
shone  brightly,  and  the  day  was  warm  for  the  sea- 
son. As  she  sat  drying  her  torn  garments  in  the 
sunshine,  she  realized  her  desperate  condition  and 
burst  into  tears.  What  was  to  become  of  her,  with- 
out food  and  shelter,  unprotected  and  helpless? 
She  knew  that  she  was  many  miles  from  civiliza- 
tion, and  she  had  no  idea  in  what  direction  the 
nearest  settlement  lay.  She  dried  her  eyes  at  last 
and  began  to  follow  the  course  of  the  stream,  hop- 
ing it  would  lead  to  the  Muskingum. 

She  trudged  down  the  stream  until  she  was  weak 
from  hunger  and  exertion.  Then  she  lay  down 
upon  a  bed  of  dead  leaves,  to  regain  strength  for 
further  effort.  While  lying  there,  she  noted  the 
position  of  the  sun,  and  concluded  that  the  brook 
she  had  been  following  flowed  eastward. 

"  If  it  does,  it  cannot  be  a  branch  of  the  Muskin- 
gum," she  mused.  "  I'll  climb  to  the  top  of  the  hill 
and  look  around  me." 

She  carried  her  resolve  into  execution ;  a  billowy 
expanse  of  forest  alone  met  her  gaze.  She  returned 
to  the  lowland  and  again  followed  the  stream.  The 
little  valley  grew  wider  and  soon  opened  into  a  larg- 
er one.  Hope  lent  her  courage  and  strength.  Hour 


314  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

after  hour  she  toiled  onward.  The  sun  sank  low 
and  disappeared.  Night  came  on.  She  sought  a 
sheltered  place  among  some  fallen  treetops,  and, 
breathing  a  fervent  prayer  for  protection  and  succor, 
lay  down  to  sleep,  covering  herself  with  dead  leaves 
that  had  drifted  in  heaps  around  the  gnarled  and 
twisted  limbs.  Poor  deluded  girl !  She  did  not 
know  that  she  had  wandered  in  a  circle,  and  that 
she  was  not  five  miles  from  the  spot  where  Red 
Wallace  had  made  his  camp  the  night  before. 
Thinking  of  Paul,  she  fell  asleep,  her  flushed  cheeks 
bathed  in  tears. 

She  awoke  with  a  start.  Where  was  she?  Ah! 
she  remembered  all.  She  had  dreamed  she  heard 
a  child  screaming.  Was  it  but  a  dream  ?  No !  she 
heard  it  again  —  and  she  was  fully  awake.  Could 
it  be  that  she  was  close  to  a  settlement  ?  She  sprang 
to  her  feet,  and  listened  intently.  The  sound  was 
repeated,  closer  than  before.  Her  heart  almost 
stopped  its  beating,  as  she  recognized  the  sound. 
It  was  the  scream  of  a  panther ! 

She  stood  like  one  petrified.  The  beast  was  fol- 
lowing her  trail.  Flight  would  not  avail  her.  The 
sounds  drew  nearer.  The  stars  and  sickle-shaped 
moon  dimly  lighted  the  forest.  She  heard  the  dead 
leaves  rustle  to  the  animal's  cat-like  tread,  and  saw 
two  balls  of  fire  moving  toward  her.  Half-fasci- 
nated, she  watched  them.  The  dark  body  creeping 
along  the  ground  came  nearer.  She  tried  to  cry 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  315 

out,  but  could  not.  The  panther  was  crouching  for 
a  spring.  What  was  that  sound  behind  her?  Why 
did  the  animal  hesitate  and  snarl? 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

IT  was  a  hundred  miles  from  Big  Bottom  to  the 
hunting  camp  of  the  Delawares  and  Wyandots, 
upon  the  Tuscarawas.  The  best  and  shortest  route 
was  along  the  eastern  bank  of  the  Muskingum,  for 
about  thirty-five  miles,  and  thence  across  the  hills 
in  a  northeast  direction.  This  route  Silverheels 
determined  to  follow.  Noting  that  the  ice  in  the 
river  was  becoming  soft  and  treacherous,  the  three 
pursuers  did  not  cross  to  the  Shawnee's  lodge ;  but 
spent  the  night  in  the  upper  cabin  at  Big  Bottom. 
At  daybreak  they  set  out  upon  the  trail.  Silver- 
heels  led,  with  the  long,  swinging  stride  peculiar  to 
Indians  and  backwoodsmen.  Hour  after  hour  he 
kept  up  the  rapid  pace  —  which  was  in  reality  a 
half-trot  —  never  pausing,  except  to  quench  his 
thirst  or  to  seek  a  ford  across  some  stream. 

"  Dat  Silberheels  am  a  ginnywine  race-hoss,  he 
am,  Marse  Paul,"  Gumbo  remarked,  as,  puffing  and 
perspiring,  he  brought  up  the  rear.  "  Guess  he  tinks 
we's  gwine  cl'ar  froo  to  de  norf  pole  in  one  day, 
widout  eatin'  'r  sleepin'.  'Deed  if  dis  nigger  can 
hoi'  out  dis  way  much  longer.  Whew!  I's  mos' 
mightily  discommoded,  I  is ;  'spect  I's  gwine  to  go 
into  tantrums  'fo'  long,  if  dat  Injin  debil  doesn't  pro- 
mulgate de  extrabagance  ob  his  rapidity." 
(316) 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R  31? 

"  Come  on,"  Paul  answered,  without  looking 
back ;  "  we  can't  go  too  fast.  I  am  in  a  fever  to 
overtake  the  Indians." 

"  An'  I's  in  a  feber,  too,"  Gumbo  replied.  "  I's 
b'ilin'  an'  roastin'  dis  berry  minute.  Doesn't  see  no 
use  in  prospectin'  de  whole  distance  to  de  Injin 
camp  in  one  fo'noon  —  I  doesn't." 

Silverheels  overheard  a  part  of  the  negro's  re- 
marks, and,  with  a  grim  smile  upon  his  bronze 
countenance,  led  on  faster  than  before.  An  hour 
after  midday,  he  came  to  a  sudden  halt,  and,  throw- 
ing himself  at  full  length  upon  the  damp  earth, 
grunted : 

"  Let  us  rest  and  eat.  Here  the  Dela wares 
crossed  the  Moose  Eye." 

As  has  been  stated  in  the  preceding  chapter, 
the  day  was  warm  and  sunshiny.  The  river  was 
full  of  floating  ice,  that  rolled  over  and  over  in 
the  turbulent  water  and  ground  along  the  shore, 
until  the  ear  pulsated  with  the  vibrant  roar.  Paul 
could  discover  no  reason  for  the  Shawnee's  con- 
fident assertion  that  Red  Wallace  and  his  band 
had  crosssed  the  stream  at  that  point,  and  so  ex- 
pressed himself. 

He  said :  "  It's  well  that  we  should  stop  to  rest 
and  eat.  I'm  both  tired  and  hungry  —  and  I  believe 
I  may  truthfully  say  the  same  of  Gumbo —  " 

"  'Deed  an'  you  may,  Marse  Paul !  "  the  black 
interrupted.  "  If  dar  eber  was  an  eggshosted  an' 
kerflummixed  nigger,  I's  dat  chile." 


318  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  But,"  Paul  resumed,  without  heeding  the  darky's 
interruption,  "  what  have  you  seen  that  warrants  you 
in  saying  the  Delawares  crossed  the  river  here  ?  " 

Silverheels  replied  briefly :  "  Many  moccasin 
tracks  —  broken  twigs." 

"Where?"  Paul  inquired. 

Silverheels  arose  to  a  sitting  posture  and  pointed 
to  the  soft,  damp  sod  along  the  river  bank. 

Graydon  carefully  examined  the  place  indicated, 
but  could  discover  no  signs  showing  that  the  Dela- 
wares had  come  ashore  at  that  point.  He  saw  a 
number  of  shallow  indentations  in  the  wet  turf  and 
a  few  disturbed  and  broken  twigs  among  the  dead 
willows.  That  was  all.  However,  he  acknowledged 
that  the  Shawnee  was  a  skillful  and  experienced 
woodman ;  and  he  did  not  doubt  his  positive  state- 
ment. 

The  three  men  ate  some  dried  meat  and  corn- 
bread  the  Indian  took  from  the  pouch  that  hung  at 
his  side;  and,  after  resting  and  dozing  for  a  half 
hour,  took  up  the  trail  across  the  hills.  Silverheels 
appeared  to  follow  the  footprints  of  his  ancient 
foes  instinctively.  With  bent  head  he  trotted  on- 
ward, never  speaking  except  when  addressed  —  and 
then  answering  in  monosyllables.  At  sunset  they 
arrived  at  the  Delaware  camp  of  the  previous  night. 

While  examining  the  place,  the  Shawnee  started 
and  uttered  the  guttural  exclamation: 

"Fight!    Blood!    Red  Fox  hurt." 

"  What  do  you  say?  "  Paul  asked  excitedly. 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  319 

"  Blood  —  see  ?  "  And  Silverheels  pointed  to 
some  rust-colored  spots  upon  the  stones  and  fallen 
leaves. 

"  An'  dar's  a  whole  puddle  ob  it,  on  dat  flat  rock 
by  de  ashes  ob  de  fire,"  Gumbo  cried,  with  bulging 
eyeballs ;  "  dey  mus'  ob  had  an  obstropperous  scrim- 
mage, Marse  Paul." 

"  No  doubt  it's  the  blood  of  some  animal,"  Paul 
replied. 

The  Shawnee  shook  his  head  and  continued  to 
carefully  inspect  the  ground.  When  he  had  fin- 
ished, he  stood  with  folded  arms,  gazing  up  the 
steep  hillside  in  front  of  him. 

"  What  do  you  make  of  it  all  ?  "  Paul  inquired. 

The  Shawnee  did  not  answer  at  once;  and  the 
young  Englishman  asked : 

"  Is  this  the  stain  of  human  blood  ?  " 

"  Ugh !     It  is  the  blood  of  Red  Fox." 

"  How  do  you  know?  " 

Silverheels  showed  his  white  brother  the  trail 
made  by  the  outlaw  as  he  slid  down  the  little  de- 
clivity, the  blood  drops  upon  the  stones,  and  the 
puddle  upon  the  flat  rock  by  the  ashes  of  the  camp- 
fire;  and  replied: 

"  White  Eagle,  this  is  blood  —  the  blood  of  a  pale- 
face, the  blood  of  Red  Fox.  And  here  is  a  bunch  of 
red  hair  that  was  torn  from  his  head,  as  he  slid 
down  the  bank." 

"  But,"  Paul  insisted,  "  there  are  no  blood  drops 
by  the  brookside,  where  he  must  have  fallen." 


320  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

The  Shawnee  answered  promptly :  "  My  white 
brother  forgets  that  it  rained  last  night.  The  wa- 
ter has  washed  away  the  blood  drops  that  fell  upon 
the  pebbles  by  the  brook.  Under  the  shelter  of 
the  overhanging  cliff,  we  find  them  still." 

"  True !  "  Paul  cried,  eagerly.     "  Was  he  killed  ?  " 

"  He  was  wounded,"  was  the  positive  answer ; 
"  the  Delaware  squaws  led  the  Red  Fox  away." 

"  The  Delawares  did  not  wound  him  ?  "  Graydon 
returned,  in  great  surprise. 

"  No." 

"Who,  then,  did  it?" 

"  The  blue-eyed  maiden." 

"Marie?" 

"  Ugh ! " 

"And  —  and—  " 

"  And  she  escaped  in  the  darkness,"  the  redman 
completed. 

"  T'ank  de  good  Lo'd  fo'  dat !  "  Gumbo  murmured 
fervently.  "  It's  bes'  fo'  de  purty  little  gal  to  be 
out  in  de  woods,  'among  de  b'ars  an'  catymounts, 
dan  to  be  discredited  to  'sociate  wid  dat  ripscalawag 
ob  a  runnygate.  Kiyi !  "  —  he  shouted  ecstatically 
—  "  bet  she  jes  jerked  de  big  knife  outen  his  belt 
an'  slashed  him  a  cut !  He's  been  'dulgin'  in  some 
ob  his  'nsultin'  an'  scandalous  talk  —  an'  de  purty 
little  gal  wouldn't  done  stan'  nuffin'  ob  dat  kin' !  " 

"  Stop !  "  Paul  cried  sharply.  Then,  turning  to 
Silverheels,  he  inquired : 

"  You're  certain  that  she  has  escaped  ?  " 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  321 

The  Shawnee  nodded  vigorously. 

"  Unaided  and  alone  ?  " 

"  The  blue-eyed  maiden  was  alone." 

"  And  have  the  Delawares  followed  her  ?  " 

Silverheels  did  not  remove  his  gaze  from  the 
hillside,  as  he  answered: 

"  The  Delaware  squaws  did  not  follow  her  up  the 
steep  hillside.  The  Red  Fox  was  sorely  wounded, 
and  they  bore  him  away  up  the  valley.  They  could 
not  climb  the  hill  with  him  in  their  arms." 

"  Do  you  think  they  have  gone  on  to  their  hunt- 
ing-camp and  left  Marie  to  her  fate?" 

The  Indian  shook  his  head. 

"Then  what  have  they  done?" 

"  They  have  gone  into  camp  near  by,  and  are 
scouring  the  woods  for  her.  The  Delawares  are 
squaws,  but  they  are  not  fools." 

"  Oh !  then  let's  hasten  to  overtake  her  ere  they 
recover  her,"  the  young  man  cried  with  a  sob  in 
his  voice ;  "  I  cannot  bear  the  thought  of  her  being 
recaptured.  My  darling !  To  what  straits  she  must 
have  been  driven  —  forced  to  fight  for  her  life,  per- 
haps! The  thought  drives  me  to  the  verge  of 
madness.  And  what  may  be  her  condition  at  this 
moment !  Alone  in  the  forest  —  without  food,  shel- 
ter, or  protection  from  savage  beasts  and  still  more 
savage  men.  I  cannot  stand  here,  my  red  brother ; 
let's  be  off." 

"  The  Shawnee  is  ready,"  came  the  guttural  reply 
from  the  bronze  statue.  "  But  he  can  follow  the 
21 


322  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

blue-eyed  maiden's  trail  but  a  short  distance,  ere 
the  black  bird  of  night  drops  his  feathers  upon 
it.  Silverheels  is  ready.  Come !  " 

Up  the  steep  hillside  and  along  the  narrow  ridge, 
they  proceeded.  Above  them  the  great  trees  inter- 
locked their  bare  arms  to  shut  out  the  last  faint 
rays  of  the  twilight ;  and  around  them  the  nimble 
shadows  flitted  silently.  The  rain  of  the  night  be- 
fore had  obliterated  almost  every  trace  of  Marie's 
footprints.  Paul  and  Gumbo  could  discover  no 
tracks  at  all;  but  Silverheels  instinctively  followed 
the  trail,  seldom  hesitating  or  pausing.  To  him,  a 
leaf  pressed  into  the  earth  —  a  misplaced  stone  — 
was  sufficient ;  and  he  moved  onward,  his  body  bent 
forward  and  his  eyes  close  to  the  ground. 

"  Marse  Paul,  dat  Shawnee  mus'  smell  out  de 
track,  like  a  foxhoun',"  Gumbo  remarked  as  he 
stumbled  along  in  the  rear ;  "  kase  I  doesn't  see  nuf- 
fin'  'tall  to  tell  dat  de  purty  little  gal's  been  'long 
here." 

The  negro  was  breathing  heavily  from  the  unusu- 
al exertion  of  carrying  his  rifle  and  a  haunch  of 
venison,  that  he  had  cut  from  a  fine  doe  Paul  had 
killed  early  in  the  afternoon.  The  three  men  de- 
scended the  long  ridge,  doubled  upon  their  trail,  and 
came  to  the  opening  in  the  rocks  where  Marie  had 
spent  the  preceding  night.  With  a  grunt  of  aston- 
ishment, Silverheels  came  to  a  sudden  halt. 

"  What  is  it?  "  Paul  inquired. 

By  this  time  it  was  quite  dusk  in  the  glen  where 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  323 

they  stood.  The  huge  rocks  loomed  in  somber  piles, 
above  and  around  them ;  and  the  little  rivulet  at 
their  feet  fretfully  complained  of  its  hard  lot.  The 
whir  of  an  owl  sounded  overhead ;  the  howl  of  a 
lone  wolf  echoed  far  away  upon  the  hilltops.  It  was 
an  eerie  place  and  an  eerie  hour.  The  negro 
glanced  around  and  shivered.  Paul  drew  closer  to 
the  Indian  and  repeated  the  question :  "  What  is 
it?" 

"  Here  the  blue-eyed  maiden  spent  the  night ;  and 
here  the  Delawares  came  upon  her  trail,"  was  the 
Shawnee's  reply. 

"  Then  we  are  too  late !  "  the  young  man  groaned, 
as  he  dejectedly  seated  himself  upon  the  ground  and 
bowed  his  head. 

"  Hab  dem  cowardish  red  debils  got  de  purty  little 
gal  ag-'in  ?  "  Gumbo  asked. 

"  No,"  Paul  replied,  "  but  they  will  have  her  be- 
fore we  can  overtake  her." 

Silverheels  turned  upon  the  speaker  and  said  se- 
verely : 

"  Is  my  white  brother  a  child,  that  he  gives  up 
so  easily?  The  Delawares  are  upon  the  trail  of 
the  paleface  maiden ;  so  is  Silverheels.  Are  the 
Delaware  squaws  better  woodmen  than  the  Shaw- 
nee?" 

"No  —  no!"  Paul  replied  quickly.  "You  mis- 
understand me,  my  red  brother;  I'm  disappointed 
but  not  discouraged.  I  know  we  shall  recover  my 
sweetheart  at  last  —  I've  all  faith  in  you.  But,  I 


324  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

hoped  to  find  her  ere  nightfall.  It's  maddening  to 
think  of  her  alone  and  helpless  a  second  night  in  the 
woods.  Can  you  follow  her  footsteps  farther  to- 
night?" 

"  The  Shawnee  has  not  the  eyes  of  the  owl  nor 
the  nose  of  the  panther ;  he  will  wak  until  morning," 
Silverheels  replied  quietly. 

"  Very  well,  then  I  must  be  patient,"  Graydon  re- 
turned resolutely :  "  Let's  eat  our  suppers  and  lie 
down  to  rest." 

They  built  a  fire,  and  upon  a  bed  of  red  coals 
broiled  a  part  of  the  venison.  This,  with  some 
cold  cornbread  that  remained  in  the  Shawnee's 
pouch,  constituted  their  evening  meal.  Supper  over, 
on  a  bed  of  brush  and  dried  leaves,  under  the 
overhanging  rocks,  they  stretched  themselves  to 
rest ;  and  soon  they  slept. 

Two  hours  passed.  Gumbo  awoke,  softly  caught 
up  his  rifle  that  lay  at  his  side,  and  arose.  Care- 
fully guarding  his  footsteps,  he  left  his  sleeping 
companions  and  stole  down  the  glen.  When  a  short 
distance  away,  he  stopped  and  muttered: 

"  Mo'  dan  likely  dis  am  a  wil'  goose  chase ;  but 
den  I's  gwine  to  do  it  anyhow.  Ol'  Gumbo  couldn't 
lay  dar  an'  hear  de  words  — '  He'p,  my  Paul  —  he'p, 
Gumbo ! '  all  froo  de  night.  Maybe  dis  nigger  was 
dreamin' ;  but  if  he  was,  it  was  de  mos'  natur'l  an' 
edifyin'  dream  he  eber  had  —  dat's  all.  I  b'liebs  dat 
de  purty  little  gal  am  close  'round'  dese  parts,  an' 
dat  she's  in  danger ;  an'  I's  gwine  to  fin'  out  de  troof. 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  325 

T  wan't  no  use  to  wake  up  Marse  Paul  an'  tell  him 
'bout  it;  kase  he'd  called  me  a  silly  nigger  an'  tol' 
me  to  go  to  sleep.  An'  as  fer  dat  Silberheels,  dem 
wicked  an'  dare-debilish  eyes  ob  his  gibs  dis  nigger 
a  hot  chill,  dat's  a  right-down  fack.  I's  gwine  up 
to  de  top  ob  dis  hill  an'  look  ober  in  de  nex'  holler. 
De  dream  showed  me  de  purty  little  gal  'mong  a  lot 
ob  brush  in  a  big  holler." 

Reaching  the  top  of  the  high  ridge,  he  stopped  to 
listen.  There  was  more  light  on  the  hilltop  than  in 
the  glen  ;  and  the  sentinel  tree  trunks  were  distinctly 
outlined.  Nothing  out  of  the  ordinary  was  visible ; 
and  he  was  on  the  point  of  retracing  his  footsteps, 
when  a  sound  reached  his  quick  ears,  that  glued  him 
to  the  spot.  A  cry  —  half  fierce,  half  plaintive  — 
floated  up  from  the  deep,  broad  valley  before  him. 
He  waited  a  few  seconds.  It  was  repeated.  He 
gripped  his  rifle  and  bounded  down  the  descent  that 
led  to  the  valley,  muttering  as  he  went : 

"  Dat's  de  scream  ob  a  painter,  an'  he's  trackin' 
somefin.  Maybe  it's  the  purty  little  gal !  " 

He  did  not  check  his  headlong  speed,  until  he 
reached  the  valley  and  stood  beside  the  stream. 
Then  he  listened  again  for  the  cry.  It  came  dis- 
tinctly. 

"  Jes  a  little  furder  up  de  branch,"  he  said  to  him- 
self as  he  started  off  at  full  speed ;  "  an'  it's  gittin' 
closer  to  its  prey  all  de  time." 

He  leaped  over  innumerable  obstructions  in  the 
way  of  logs  and  rocks ;  splashed  through  a  shallow 


326  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

place  in  the  stream ;  veered  from  his  course  to  avoid 
a  thicket  of  vines  and  brambles ;  and  stood  still, 
panting  and  wildly  peering  around  him.  Fifty 
yards  from  him  lay  a  fallen  treetop ;  and  among  the 
branches  he  thought  he  discerned  a  moving  figure. 
Cautiously  he  crept  forward.  The  outline  grew 
more  distinct.  He  saw  it  was  a  human  being,  a 
woman.  Her  back  was  toward  him ;  but  he  knew 
her.  It  was  Marie !  Her  gaze  was  fixed  upon  some 
object  in  front  of  her.  Gumbo  heard  a  rustling  of 
the  dead  leaves,  and  caught  sight  of  a  cat-like  form 
and  two  fiery  eyes.  At  the  same  time,  the  animal 
became  aware  of  the  newcomer's  presence,  and 
snarled.  The  light  was  dim  and  uncertain,  but 
Gumbo  took  quick  aim  and  fired.  The  lithe  animal 
sprang  into  the  air  and  fell  back  dead.  The  negro 
had  shot  it  through  the  brain.  Marie  screamed  in 
affright,  staggered  backward,  and  would  have  fallen 
had  Gumbo  not  caught  her  in  his  arms.  The 
intense  strain  had  been  too  much  for  her ;  she  had 
fainted.  Bending  over  her,  the  black  tenderly 
chafed  her  hands  and  murmured  softly : 

"  Purty  little  gal !  Jes  wore  out  wid  traipsin' 
froo  de  woods  an'  .cryin'  fo'  Marse  Paul !  She  ain't 
dead  —  I  can  feel  her  breavin'  on  my  hand.  She'll 
come  to  purty  soon,  an'  den  I'll  take  'er  right 
straight  to  de  camp.  Oh !  Miss  M'rie,  wake  up, 
honey !  De  painter's  dead ;  he  can't  skeer  you  no 
mo'.  Wake  up,  honey !  " 

He  brought  some  water  in  the  hollow  of  his  hands 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  327 

and  dashed  it  into  her  upturned  face.  Presently 
she  heaved  a  deep  sigh  and  opened  her  blue  eyes. 

"Jes  lay  still,  Miss  M'rie,"  he  said,  soothingly; 
"  dar's  nuffin'  gwine  to  hurt  you  no  mo'  —  de  paint- 
er's dead.  Jes  res'  a  little  minute,  an'  den  you'll  be 
equiliberated  an'  feelin'  firs'  trate." 

Marie  stared  hard  at  the  black  face  hovering  over 
her  and  interrogated  faintly : 

"  Who  are  you  —  where  am  I  ?  " 

"  Doesn't  you  know  me,  Miss  M'rie  —  doesn't 
you  know  ol'  Gumbo?"  he  asked  quickly  and  anx- 
iously. 

"  Yes,  Gumbo,"  she  replied,  "  but  where  am  I  ?  " 

"  Right  here  in  de  woods,  honey.  Doesn't  you 
recomember  dat  de  painter  was  gwine  to  eat  you 
all  up?" 

"Yes  —  yes!"  —  and  she  shuddered  —  "I  re- 
member everything  now.  How  came  you  here?  " 

"  Jes  come  to  fin'  you,  honey  —  dat's  how. 
Wen  you's  rested  a  little  mite,  I's  gwine  to  take  you 
to  Silberheels  an'  Marse  Paul  —  " 

"Paul!     My  Paul?" 

"Yes,  Miss  M'rie;  Silberheels  and  Marse  Paul 
is  camped  — ' 

"Where?" 

"  Ober  in  de  nex'  holler." 

"  You  three  were  searching  for  me?  " 

"  Yes,  honey." 

"  How  came  you  here  alone,  just  when  I  needed 
you  most?  " 


328  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  Well,  dis  nigger  went  to  sleep  wid  Silberheels 
an'  Marse  Paul  by  de  campfire.  Den  he  dreamp'  — 
I  'spose  it  was  a  dream  —  dat  you  was  in  a  peck  ob 
trouble  an'  calamitatin'  diffikilty,  an'  dat  you  was 
callin'  all  de  time  fo'  Marse  Paul  an'  ol'  Gumbo. 
Dis  darky  couldn't  stan'  dat,  nohow,  honey;  he 
couldn't  sleep,  an'  he  jes'  slipped  away  an'  come 
ober  in  dis  big  holler  to  hunt  you.  Wen  he  got  onto 
de  top  ob  de  hill,  he  heerd  de  painter  —  an'  knowed 
w'at  it  meant.  He  got  here  jes  in  time  —  but  you's 
all  right  now,  Miss  M'rie.  Does  you  t'ink  you's  able 
to  stan'  upon  yo'  feet  an'  perambulate  to  de  camp  ?  " 

"  Yes,  let's  go  at  once,"  was  her  quiet  but  deter- 
mined reply. 

He  put  his  brawny  arms  around  her  and  raised  her 
to  her  feet.  Pale  and  trembling,  she  stood  alone 
and  essayed  to  walk.  Gumbo  retained  a  firm  hold 
upon  her  arm  and  assisted  her  to  make  the  uncer- 
tain trial.  They  proceeded  slowly,  and  had  reached 
the  base  of  the  steep  hill,  when  Marie  insisted  that 
she  must  rest.  At  that  moment  the  darky  caught 
sight  of  a  shadowy  figure,  as  it  dodged  behind  a 
tree  trunk.  Then  he  discerned  another  a  little  far- 
ther off. 

"  Am  dat  you,  Marse  Paul?  "  he  called  in  a  cau- 
tious tone.  He  received  no  reply;  and  an  unwel- 
come fear  assailed  him. 

"  Did  you  see  some  one  ?  "  Marie  asked,  as  she 
clung  to  him,  trembling. 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  329 

Without  heeding  the  young  woman's  question, 
Gumbo  cried  in  a  louder  voice : 

"  Silberheels,  am  dat  you?" 

The  answer  to  his  question  was  a  chorus  of  fierce 
and  fiendish  yells.  He  saw  Indians  surround- 
ing him  and  Marie ;  and  the  noble  fellow  clubbed  his 
empty  rifle  and  prepared  to  defend  his  helpless 
charge. 

With  the  cry  —  "  It's  the  Delawares !  "  —  Marie 
sank  upon  the  ground,  in  a  helpless,  half-fainting 
condition. 

There  were  seven  or  eight  of  the  redmen.  Evi- 
dently they  did  not  wish  to  kill  either  the  girl  or  the 
black.  They  did  not  fire  upon  them,  but  rushed  in. 
Gumbo  swung  his  clubbed  rifle  right  and  left.  He 
shouted  the  name  of  Paul  and  Silverheels,  until  the 
dim  arches  of  the  forest  rang.  Two  of  the  braves 
snatched  Marie  from  the  ground  and  bore  her  away. 
The  rifle  was  wrenched  from  the  negro's  hands; 
and  a  blow  stretched  him  bleeding  and  senseless 
upon  the  ground.  He  was  bound  and  made  a 
prisoner. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

WHEN  Gumbo  regained  consciousness  it  was  still 
dark.  As  in  a  dream,  he  perceived  the  half- 
nude  forms  of  the  Indians  stretched  around  a  camp- 
fire  and  heard  their  stertorious  breathing.  His  head 
ached,  and  his  teeth  began  to  chatter.  The  positions 
of  the  stars  and  moon  told  him  the  night  was  far 
advanced.  Midway  between  himself  and  the  camp- 
fire,  he  saw  Marie.  She  was  half  reclining  upon  the 
bare  ground,  at  the  foot  of  a  small  tree,  to  which  she 
was  bound.  Her  head  rested  upon  her  breast  and 
her  rhythmic  respirations  indicated  that  she  slept. 

"  Dey's  took  us  bofe  pris'ners,"  the  darky  mut- 
tered to  himself,  as  he  vainly  strove  to  control  his 
chattering  jaws. 

"  De  night's  mighty  col',  too ;  Fs  right  down  glad, 
I  is,  dat  dey  put  de  purty  little  gal  close  to  de  fire. 
De  kidnaperin'  Injin  debils  ought  to  git  her  somefin' 
to  lay  on  —  she'll  be  likely  to  ketch  'er  def  ob  col'. 
Purty  little  gal!  Ol'  Gumbo  couldn't  sabe  you  — 
it's  a  right  down  scrutinizin'  shame !  I  wonder 
whar  we  is ;  I  doesn't  recognize  de  surroundin's  ob 
de  situation.  Ouch !  Dis  nigger's  head's  a-hurtin' 
right  smart  —  'deed  an'  dat's  a  fack !  Dey  mus'  ob 
knocked  all  de  senses  out  ob  ol'  Gumbo." 
(330) 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  331 

He  made  an  attempt  to  raise  his  hand,  but  found 
his  arms  pinioned  behind  him  and  made  fast  to  a 
stake.  As  he  tried  to  disengage  them,  the  cruel 
thongs  cut  into  his  flesh.  He  groaned  with  pain. 

"  Dis  am  a  nice  fix  fo'  a  free  nigger  to  be  in !  " 
he  grumbled.  "  If  I  eber  gits  back  to  ol'  Virginny 
I'll  stay  dar  —  dat  I  will.  Who's  dat  wrapped  an' 
rolled  up  in  dem  furs  an'  fixin's  ober  dar  by  dat 
log?  Fo'  de  Lo'd's  sake !  If  it  isn't  dat  Red  Wal- 
lace, I's  a  numbskullion !  He's  got  Miss  M'rie  an' 
me  bofe.  I's  a  dead  nigger,  fo'  sure,  dis  time !  " 

He  shifted  his  position  as  best  he  could,  rear- 
ranged his  swollen  and  stiffened  limbs  to  the  ex- 
tent that  his  bonds  would  allow,  and,  still  mumbling 
of  the  cold,  the  Indians  and  the  outlaw,  fell  into  a 
fitful  sleep.  It  was  break  of  day  when  he  again 
awoke.  The  Indians  had  replenished  the  campfire, 
and  were  moving  to  and  fro  around  it  as  they  pre- 
pared breakfast.  Marie  was  awake,  but  listlessly 
maintained  her  half  reclining  position.  Seated  upon 
a  log  on  the  side  of  the  fire  opposite  the  negro,  was 
Red  Wallace,  his  shivering  form  wrapped  in  heavy 
quilts  and  robes  —  a  part  of  the  blockhouse  plun- 
der —  and  his  neck  and  the  upper  part  of  his  chest 
swathed  in  bloody  bandages. 

A  wonderful  change  in  the  appearance  of  the 
rugged  renegade  had  taken  place.  His  ruddiness 
was  gone,  and  his  flabby  features  and  rough  hands 
were  yellowish,  waxen  —  the  effect  of  excessive 
hemorrhage.  Dark  lines  encircled  his  eyes,  in  which 


332  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

the  fire  of  latent  fever  burned;  and  his  thick  and 
sensual  lips  were  dry  and  parched.  He  sat  moodily 
gazing  into  the  fire,  until  he  noticed  that  Gumbo 
was  awake.  Then  he  arose  feebly  and  came  over  to 
where  the  negro  lay.  He  stood  looking  down  upon 
the  prostrate  man  for  a  full  half  minute,  as  though 
striving  to  gain  control  of  himself.  At  last  he  said 
in  a  husky  voice  that  was  little  more  than  a  strident 
whisper : 

"  Hello,  nigger !     You're  awake,  are  you  ?  " 

Gumbo  nodded  but  said  nothing. 

"  Do  you  recognize  me  ?  "  was  the  outlaw's  next 
question. 

Again  the  negro  nodded. 

"  Open  your  big  mouth  and  let  your  voice  out !  " 
Wallace  commanded.  "  Who  am  I  ?  " 

"  You's  de  man  dat  I  put  'pon  his  back  on  de  las' 
Fo'th  ob  July,"  Gumbo  replied  with  provoking  cool- 
ness. 

"  I'm  glad  to  see  you  remember  me  so  well," 
the  renegade  returned  with  equal  calmness.  "  I've 
got  you  in  my  power  now  —  got  you  where  Mr.  Paul 
Gray  don  can't  interfere  —  and  I'll  take  sweet  re- 
venge. Yes,  you  put  me  upon  my  back,  and  you 
caused  me  to  get  a  thorough  drubbing  at  the  hands 
of  that  young  upstart.  You  shall  receive  your  re- 
ward, never  fear.  My  Delaware  hounds  will  teach 
you  to  run  the  gauntlet.  Oh,  it's  fine  sport !  " 

Red  Wallace  chuckled  hoarsely,  but  the  act 
brought  on  an  attack  of  coughing  that  threatened  to 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  333 

strangle  him.  He  spat  upon  the  ground  and  the 
mucus  was  streaked  with  blood.  Wiping  his  mouth 
with  the  back  of  his  hand  he  resumed : 

"  You  see  the  condition  I'm  in  —  stabbed  through 
the  top  of  the  lung  by  that  she  wildcat  over  there. 
I'm  liable  to  die  at  any  moment,  I  suppose.  No 
matter,  a  man  must  die  some  time.  At  any  rate, 
I  mean  to  live  long  enough  to  pay  off  all  old  scores. 
You  and  the  young  jade  shan't  be  forgotten  when  I 
parcel  out  my  rewards !  What  are  you  doing  here, 
you  black  scoundrel  ?  " 

"  I  isn't  doin'  nuffin',"  Gumbo  replied,  truthfully. 
"  I's  bucked,  an'  gagged,  an'  tied,  till  I  can't  do 
nuffin'.  'Deed  an'  dat's  de  solemn  troof !  " 

"What  did  you  come  here  for?" 

"  I  didn't  come ;  de  Injun  debils  brunged  me." 

"  What  were  you  doing  in  the  woods  when  they 
caught  you?  " 

"  Killin'  painters  an'  fightin'  red  debbils." 

"  You've  got  a  funny  streak,  eh?  "  Wallace  cried 
in  cracked  tones.  "  Never  mind,  I'll  take  all  that 
out  of  you.  Answer  my  question,  or  I'll  roast  you 
over  a  slow  fire.  How  did  you  find  the  girl?  " 

"  Doesn't  know,  Marse  Wallace ;  guess  de  good 
Lo'd  done  gone  showed  dis  ol'  nigger  whar  de 
purty  little  gal  was." 

"You  were  hunting  her?" 

"  Yes,  sah." 

"  How  did  you  know  she  was  a  captive  ?  " 

Gumbo  was  silent. 


334  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  Answer  me !  "  the  outlaw  squeaked,  attempting 
to  elevate  his  voice.  The  effort  was  a  failure,  and 
brought  on  another  attack  of  coughing.  He  re- 
pressed it,  and  stood  holding  his  throat  and  panting. 
Presently  he  whispered  with  difficulty : 

"  It  won't  do  for  me  to  get  excited,  that's  plain. 
Now,  you've  got  to  answer  my  questions,  nigger ; 
if  you  don't,  the  consequences  will  be  upon  your 
own  head.  Who  was  with  you  —  who  led  you  upon 
my  trail  ?  " 

Gumbo  knew  the  salvation  of  Marie  and  himself 
depended  upon  the  efforts  of  Paul  and  Silverheels. 
He  knew,  also,  that  should  Red  Wallace  become 
assured  the  two  men  were  upon  his  trail,  he  would 
take  additional  precautions  to  defeat  them.  The 
negro  set  his  teeth  and  resolved  to  undergo  any 
form  of  torment  rather  than  reveal  his  secret.  Wal- 
lace dealt  the  bound  and  helpless  black  a  brutal  kick 
and  repeated  his  questions. 

"  Out  with  it !  "  he  insisted,  emphasizing  his  com- 
mands with  a  series  of  kicks  and  cuffs.  But  the 
blows  lacked  vigor;  and,  although  the  negro 
squirmed  and  strained  at  his  bonds  until  the  blood 
dropped  from  his  lacerated  wrists,  he  was  not 
seriously  injured. 

"  Jes'  cut  dees  cords  an'  let  me  loose,  an'  I'll  show 
you  how  to  kick ! "  Gumbo  shouted.  "  You's  a 
mean,  cowardly  Red  Fox  —  dat's  w'at  you  is  —  to 
'buse  a  man  w'en  he's  down  an'  can't  he'p  hisse'f. 
Jes'  let  dis  nigger  loose,  an'  he'll  show  you ! " 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  335 

"  Will  you  answer  my  question  ?  "  Wallace  in- 
quired. 

'  'Deed  an'  I  won't!"  was  the  sturdy  reply. 

The  outlaw's  anger  was  rising,  and  he  was  on 
the  point  of  giving  way  to  a  hurricane  of  rage ;  but 
the  distressing  cough  gave  him  warning,  and  by  a 
great  effort,  he  regained  control  of  himself.  With 
a  cynical  and  cadaverous  smile,  he  turned  away 
muttering : 

"  It  won't  do  —  I've  got  to  control  myself.  It's 
devilish  hard  to  do,  though.  Bah!  What  a  fool 
I  am  to  bandy  words  with  a  nigger.  The  fact  that 
he  refuses  to  answer  my  questions  is  proof  that 
there  are  others  upon  my  trail.  Besides,  how  could 
an  idiotic  nigger  follow  my  trail?  He  couldn't  fol- 
low the  track  of  a  whirlwind  through  a  cornfield !  I 
should  like  to  know  who  they  are,  and  how  many 
there  are.  One  thing's  certain  —  their  leader's 
skilled  in  woodcraft.  Is  Paul  Graydon  among  the 
number?  What  was  the  nigger  doing  away  from 
the  others  —  and  how  did  he  find  the  girl  ?  I  must 
push  on  rapidly.  Once  at  the  camp  upon  the  Tus- 
carawas,  I  can  snap  my  fingers  at  them.  I'll  have 
a  little  palaver  with  the  girl  before  we  start.  Curse 
this  wound !  It's  liable  to  give  me  no  end  of  trouble, 
right  at  a  time  when  I  need  all  my  strength  and 
cunning." 

With  dragging  steps  he  went  to  the  campfire,  and 
carried  some  food  to  Marie.  He  unbound  her  limbs, 
and  handed  her  what  he  had  brought.  She  had 


336  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

fasted  for  thirty-six  hours  and  was  half  famished. 
Red  Wallace  seated  himself  a  short  distance  from 
her,  and  silently  choked  down  his  own  breakfast.  In 
the  meantime,  one  of  the  Delawares  had  loosened 
Gumbo's  hands  and  supplied  him  with  meat  and 
water. 

When  the  French  girl  had  finished  her  meal,  the 
outlaw  arose  and  asked: 

"  Do  you  feel  better  now,  my  lively  wench  ?  " 

Receiving  a  murmured  reply  in  the  affirmative,  he 
continued : 

"  Like  myself,  you  look  a  little  the  worse  for 
wear.  You  played  the  mischief  with  me  when  you 
gave  me  that  murderous  thrust.  I  thought  for  a 
little  while  I  had  received  my  death  wound." 

"  I'm  very  sorry,"  the  girl  said  languidly,  "  that 
I  was  forced  to  injure  you.  But  you  were  to 
blame.  I  shouldn't  have  stabbed  you,  had  you  kept 
your  distance." 

"  I'll  take  care  not  to  come  within  reach  of  your 
claws  again.  Where  did  you  get  the  knife  ?  " 

"  It  was  your  own." 

"  How  did  it  come  into  your  possession?  " 

"  You  dropped  it  and  I  picked  it  up.  God  is  on 
the  side  of  the  weak  and  defenseless !  He  saved  me 
from  your  power,  and  He  will  do  so  again." 

The  renegade  started  and  exclaimed  with  an  oath : 
"  Stop  your  clack !  It  makes  me  creepy  to  hear 
such  talk.  Look  at  me!  Two  days  ago  I  was  a 
strong  man;  today  I'm  a  staggering  wreck.  I  can 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  337 

scarcely  talk  or  breathe.     Do  you  imagine  I'll  forget 
that  you  brought  me  to  such  a  condition  ?  " 

Marie  arose  to  stretch  her  cramped  limbs,  as  she 
answered : 

"I'm  not  to  blame ;  you  brought  your  injury  upon 
yourself." 

"  Nevertheless,  my  fine  jade,  you  shall  pay  for 
it ! "  he  said,  with  his  hand  pressed  to  his  chest 
and  a  look  of  suffering  upon  his  face.  "  Just  wait 
till  I  get  you  to  the  village  —  till  I'm  strong  again ! 
You  shall  learn  what  Indian  torture  is.  I  intended 
to  be  kind  to  you  —  and  this  is  my  reward.  Where's 
that  knife?" 

Marie  did  not  reply. 

"  Give  it  to  me !  "     He  started  toward  her. 
Her  hand  flew  to  her  bosom  and  a  dangerous 
light  flashed  in  her  blue  eyes. 

He  stopped,  turned  toward  the  Indians  and  gave 
a  low  command.  Two  of  the  braves  came  up  to 
Marie  and  the  outlaw.  One  quietly  slipped  behind 
her,  and  pinioned  her  arms  to  her  side,  while  the 
other  assisted  Wallace  in  his  search  for  the  weapon. 
However,  they  did  not  find  it ;  and,  with  a  string  of 
oaths,  the  renegade  left  the  girl  and  ordered  the 
march  to  begin.  When  they  had  turned  their  backs, 
Marie  recovered  the  dagger  from  the  leaves  at  her 
feet  and  restored  it  to  its  place  in  her  bosom. 

The  Indians  again  bound  Gumbo's  arms,  strapped 
upon  his  back  a  part  of  the  plunder  they  had  with 
them,  and  fastened  around  his  neck  a  cord  by  which 
22 


338  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

one  of  their  number  led  him.  No  restraint  —  except 
the  restraining  influence  of  the  eyes  of  the  watchful 
braves  —  was  placed  upon  Marie's  movements.  But 
she  was  compelled  to  walk,  while  the  injured  outlaw 
was  borne  upon  the  litter. 

An  hour  after  they  had  resumed  their  journey,  the 
air  grew  warmer  and  damper  and  blue-gray  clouds 
began  to  pile  up  in  the  northwestern  heavens.  Soon 
a  snowstorm  was  upon  them.  For  hour  after  hour, 
the  great  flakes  fell  silently.  They  blotted  out  the 
trail  left  by  the  little  party,  and  lay  several  inches 
deep  throughout  the  never-ending  woodland.  The 
walking  became  slavish.  Uncomplainingly  Marie 
trudged  onward,  until  ready  to  fall  from  exhaus- 
tion. Gumbo  noted  her  condition  and  appealed  to 
the  renegade. 

"  Jes'  untie  my  han's  an'  let  me  he'p  de  purty 
little  gal  ober  de  steep  and  rough  places,  Marse 
Wallace,"  he  pleaded. 

But  the  outlaw  gave  no  heed  to  the  negro's  plea ; 
and  Marie  struggled  forward  as  best  she  could. 
At  last  she  could  go  no  further.  Her  bruised  and 
chilled  limbs  refused  to  support  her,  and  she  stum- 
bled and  fell.  She  essayed  to  arise  ;  but  her  strength 
was  not  equal  to  the  effort. 

"  None  of  that  —  none  of  your  tricks,  my  pretty 
minx !  "  Red  Wallace  cried,  huskily.  "  Get  up  and 
come  on,  or  I'll  order  the  Delawares  to  prick  you 
with  their  knives.  I  understand  your  motive;  you 
want  to  delay  us.  Get  up,  I  say !  " 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R  339 

The  poor  girl  attempted  to  obey,  but  with  a  groan 
fell  back  upon  the  snow. 

"  Fo !  de  sake  ob  de  good  Lo'd  dat  made  us  all," 
sobbed  Gumbo,  the  tears  trickling  down  his  ebony 
cheeks,  "  cut  me  loose  an'  let  me  he'p  'er!  Doesn't 
you  see  dat  she's  done  gib  out,  Marse  Wallace? 
Please  let  ol'  Gumbo  he'p  her !  He'll  take  'er  'pon 
his  back  —  he  will." 

"  Very  well,  have  your  will,"  Wallace  replied 
weakly.  The  jolting  of  his  vehicle  was  telling  upon 
him,  and  he  coughed  almost  incessantly.  His  head 
ached  violently  ;  and  he  sweat  and  shivered  by  turns. 
He  ordered  the  Indians  to  unloose  Gumbo's  arms, 
and,  with  a  moan  of  agony,  dropped  back  upon  the 
litter.  The  stalwart  black  hastened  to  the  young 
womans'  side,  placed  a  muscular  arm  round  her  and 
lifted  her  to  her  feet.  Again  they  moved  onward, 
Gumbo  half  leading,  half  carrying  the  exhausted 
girl.  When  her  strength  threatened  to  fail  her  en- 
tirely, he  took  her  in  his  arms  and  carried  her 
for  mile  after  mile. 

At  the  close  of  the  following  day  —  after  untold 
toil,  hardship  and  suffering  —  the  party  arrived  at 
the  village  upon  the  Tuscarawas. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

CHILL,  murky  daylight,  with  many  sinuous  mo- 
tions, crept  into  the  woodland.  Soft-footed 
as  were  its  movements,  it  aroused  the  Shawnee. 
Paul,  exhausted  by  the  preceding  day's  journey,  was 
still  sleeping  heavily.  With  a  grunt  of  surprise, 
Silverheels  arose  to  his  feet  and  walked  over  to  the 
spot  where  Gumbo  had  lain  down  to  sleep.  The 
Indian  carefully  examined  the  place  and  with  bent 
head,  slowly  encircled  the  camp.  Then  he  picked  up 
his  rifle  and  glided  down  the  glen.  In  fifteen  min- 
utes he  returned  to  find  his  white  companion  still 
in  the  land  of  dreams.  A  light  touch,  and  the  young 
man  sprang  to  his  feet,  rifle  in  hand. 

"  The  night  is  gone ;  the  day  is  here,"  said  the 
Indian. 

"  Where's  Gumbo  ? "  the  young  Englishman 
asked,  glancing  around  the  camp  in  a  puzzled  man- 
ner. 

"  The  black  man  is  gone." 

"  Gone  ?  " 

"Ugh!" 

"Where?    When?" 

Silverheels  shook  his  head.  "  The  Shawnee 
awoke  to  find  him  gone.  His  tracks  lead  down  the 
glen." 

(340) 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  341 

"  He  hasn't  gone  far  —  he'll  be  back  soon,"  Paul 
confidently  asserted.  "  Let's  prepare  our  breakfast. 
I'm  anxious  to  start  again." 

To  this  Silverheels  made  no  reply.  The  two  re- 
plenished their  fire  and,  in  silence,  prepared  their 
morning  meal ;  but  Gumbo  came  not. 

"  What  can  it  mean  ?  "  Paul  asked  of  Silverheels. 

"  The  black  man  is  far  away,"  was  the  stolid  re- 
joinder. 

"  Do  you  think  he  has  been  gone  long?  " 

"  Many  hours." 

"  Have  you  any  explanation  to  offer?" 

The  Indian  shook  his  head. 

"  It's  all  very  perplexing  —  and  provoking,"  Paul 
said  in  an  irritated  tone.  "  Just  when  we  should  be 
starting!  When  the  loss  of  an  hour  may  mean  so 
much  —  the  heedless  black  must  lose  himself  in  the 
woods.  What  can  have  happened  to  call  him  away  ? 
However,  there's  no  use  to  waste  time  in  idle  fret- 
ting ;  let's  eat.  If  he  doesn't  come,  we  must  search 
for  him.  It  will  not  do  to  go  off  and  leave  him." 

When  their  primitive  meal  was  finished,  Paul  said 
briskly : 

"  You  say  his  steps  lead  down  the  glen  ?  " 

"Ugh!" 

"  Let's  follow  him." 

Down  the  glen  and  over  the  hill  they  went.  At 
the  place  where  Gumbo  had  shot  the  panther,  Silver- 
heels  stopped  suddenly  and  carefully  scrutinized  ev- 
ery inch  of  the  ground. 


342  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  Why,  what's  this  ?  "  Graydon  cried  as  he  stum- 
bled over  the  carcass  of  the  dead  catamount. 

Silverheels  came  forward  and  looked  at  the  body 
of  the  animal,  but  offered  no  reply  as  he  pro- 
ceeeded  with  his  examination  of  the  soft  earth  at 
his  feet.  Paul  grew  impatient  and  uttered  the  one 
word : 

"Well?" 

"  Would  my  white  brother  know  what  has  hap- 
pened ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  Then  let  him  be  patient  until  the  Shawnee's 
tongue  is  heavy  with  the  truth.  Silverheels  would 
not  speak  lies." 

Thus  rebuked,  the  young  man  dropped  upon  the 
dry  leaves  and  nervously  awaited  the  other's  deci- 
sion. The  Indian  continued  his  careful  scrutiny  of 
the  spot  for  some  minutes.  At  last  he  said  slowly 
and  impressively : 

"  The  black  man  is  wiser  than  Silverheels  or 
White  Eagle.  In  the  dead  of  night  he  came  to  this 
place  and  rescued  the  blue-eyed  maiden. 

"  What !  "     And  Paul  leaped  to  his  feet  electrified. 

"  The  Shawnee  speaks  words  of  truth,"  the  red- 
man  replied  composedly. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  Gumbo  alone  and  un- 
aided has  found  Marie  —  and  in  the  night?  " 

"  Ugh !  The  black  man  found  her  —  he  saved 
her." 

"Saved  her?    From  whom?" 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  343 

Silverheels  silently  pointed  to  the  dead  panther. 

"  I  understand !  "  Paul  cried.  "  But  how  did  he 
find  her  —  how  did  he  know  that  she  was  here  and 
in  danger?  " 

"  White  Eagle  must  answer  his  own  questions ; 
the  Shawnee  cannot  answer  them  for  him." 

"  But  where  are  they,  my  red  brother  —  the  black 
man  and  the  blue-eyed  maiden?  Where  have  they 
gone?" 

"  Here  is  their  trail.  Would  White  Eagle  fol- 
low it?" 

"  Yes  —  yes ;  let's  hasten  to  overtake  them,"  Paul 
answered  eagerly. 

Again  they  set  out,  but  soon  the  young  man  asked 
abruptly : 

"If  Gumbo  and  Marie  were  together,  why  didn't 
he  conduct  her  to  our  camp  at  once  ?  " 

"  My  white  brother's  question  is  easily  answered," 
the  Indian  returned.  "  At  this  spot  they  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  watchful  and  crafty  Delawares." 

"  Surely  you  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  the  Dela- 
wares have  recaptured  my  loved  one?"  Paul 
groaned. 

'  It  is  true  —  here  are  the  marks  of  the  struggle," 
the  Shawnee  responded,  a  ring  of  disappointment 
in  his  voice. 

"  Then  what's  to  be  done  ?  " 

"  Follow  Red  Fox  and  his  Delaware  squaws  to 
their  camp  upon  the  Tuscarawas." 


344  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  You  think  they  have  set  out  for  that  place,  with 
the  prisoners  ?  " 

"Ugh!" 

"  Very  well,  let's  move  on.  It  is  very  disappoint- 
ing —  very  discouraging  —  but  I  must  bear  up  un- 
der it.  Lead  the  way ;  you  cannot  travel  too  rapidly 
to  please  me.  Oh,  for  just  one  shot  at  Red  Wal- 
lace!" 

Like  two  somber  shadows  they  moved  forward 
upon  the  trail,  swiftly,  silently,  cautiously.  As  they 
passed  the  Delaware  camp  of  the  -night  before,  the 
snow  began  to  fall.  Little  by  little  it  obscured  the 
tracks  of  the  fleeing  red  men.  Lower  and  lower 
bent  the  Shawnee ;  but  he  did  not  slacken  his  rapid 
pace.  Thicker  and  faster  the  flakes  descended,  and 
after  a  time,  the  redman  said : 

"  The  tra'l  is  hidden." 

"  What's  to  be  done?  "  Paul  asked. 

"  The  Delawares  are  moving  rapidly  toward  their 
distant  village.  They  know  avengers  are  upon  their 
track.  Silverheels  and  his  white  brother  will  follow 
them.  The  trail  is  lost;  but  Silverheels  is  not  lost. 
He  knows  where  the  Red  Fox  has  made  his  den. 
Come." 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  the  snow  ceased  to  fall  and 
the  air  grew  colder.  At  nightfall,  the  wind  was 
blowing  a  biting  gale  and  piling  the  light  snow 
in  fantastic  shapes  that  gave  to  the  fast-darkening 
landscape  a  sheeted  and  ghostly  aspect.  Morning 
dawned;  and  the  sun  shone  from  a  cloudless  sky. 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R  345 

Silverheels  and  Paul  were  astir  at  an  early  hour, 
trudging  onward  with  but  one  purpose.  Several 
times,  in  sheltered  places,  where  the  the  snow  had 
not  drifted,  the  two  friends  came  upon  the  tracks 
of  the  party  in  advance;  and,  judging  from  the 
apparent  freshness  of  these  marks,  they  were  grad- 
ually gaining  upon  the  savages.  By  mid-afternoon 
they  were  following  a  broad  and  well-defined  trail, 
and  realized  that  they  were  approaching  the  Indian 
village. 

When  winter  twilight  again  heralded  the  ap- 
proach of  night,  Paul  and  Silverheels  went  into 
camp.  They  knew  that  they  were  close  upon  Red 
Wallace  and  his  prisoners ;  but  they  had  a  cunning 
and  desperate  foe  to  deal  with,  and  took  no  risk  of 
ambush. 

The  following  morning,  at  sunrise,  they  stood 
overlooking  the  village  upon  the  Tuscarawas. 
Their  point  of  observation  was  one  of  the  wooded 
hilltops  that  walled  in  the  valley,  on  the  west.  Be- 
neath them  lay  the  stream  itself;  and  just  across  it, 
in  the  center  of  a  cleared  space  in  the  forest,  stood 
the  village  of  scattered  huts  and  cabins.  There 
were  about  fifty  of  these,  illy  constructed  of  poles 
and  logs,  surrounding  a  large  council  lodge  upon 
the  bank  of  the  stream.  The  valley  at  this  point 
widened  into  a  natural  amphitheater,  through  which 
ran  the  sparkling  river.  The  eastern  rampart  was 
rock-strewn  and  precipitous,  with  frowning  cliffs 


346  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

jutting  outward  from  the  trees  and  bushes  that 
clothed  its  rugged  sides. 

The  village  was  a  mere  hunting  camp.  At  this 
time,  it  was  the  temporary  home  of  about  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  Delaware  and  Wyandot  braves  with 
a  number  of  squaws,  dogs  and  children.  The  main 
villages  of  these  tribes  were  upon  the  Maumee. 

Red  Wallace  had  brought  Marie  to  this  camp,  in 
expectation  that  her  rescuers  would  proceed  at 
once  to  the  Maumee.  He  had  intended  to  remove 
her  to  the  principal  village,  as  soon  as  the  hue  and 
cry  was  over,  and  there  abandon  her  to  a  life  of 
suffering  and  abuse.  But  he  changed  his  plans. 
He  was  seriously  wounded  and  unable  to  undertake 
so  long  a  journey.  Besides,  he  was  convinced  by 
the  presence  of  Gumbo,  that  his  ruse  had  been  pene- 
trated and  that  brave  and  skillful  whites  were  in 
the  immediate  vicinity  of  his  retreat,  bent  on  rescu- 
ing the  maiden.  As  soon  as  he  was  strong  enough 
he  would  slip  away  to  Marietta,  force  Hester  to  join 
him,  and  be  off  to  Virginia,  ere  anyone  was  aware 
of  his  presence  in  the  settlement.  In  that  way,  too, 
he  could  avoid  the  payment  of  the  large  amount  of 
gold  that  he  had  promised  his  Indian  allies.  If 
Marie  were  finally  rescued,  what  matter?  He 
would  have  Hester  and  her  property. 

As  Paul  Graydon  and  Silverheels  stood  looking 
down  upon  the  village  of  the  Aborigines,  half  hidden 
among  the  trees,  they  saw  smoke  curling  from  the 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R  347 

lowly  huts,  and  human  beings  moving  to  and  fro 
among  them. 

The  distance  was  so  great  the  young  Englishman 
could  not  distinguish  form  or  features.  But  Sil- 
verheels'  eagle  eye  penetrated  the  remotest  and  most 
shadowy  nooks  of  the  valley.  Suddenly  he  gave 
a  grunt  of  satisfaction,  and  bent  forward  in  his 
eagerness  to  miss  nothing  of  the  scene  before  him. 

"What  do  you  see,  my  red  friend?"  Paul  in- 
quired. 

"  Red  Fox ! "  the  Shawnee  muttered  in  reply. 
"  He  leaves  the  council  lodge  and  moves  toward 
a  smaller  lodge  that  stands  near.  He  is  ill  from 
the  wound  the  blue-eyed  maiden  gave  him." 

"  Do  you  see  anything  of  her  we  seek  ?  " 

The  Shawnee  shook  his  head :  "  She  is  not  to  be 
seen.  But  Red  Fox  has  entered  the  smaller  lodge 
to  the  right  of  the  council  lodge;  no  doubt  she  is 
there?" 

Paul  ground  his  teeth  in  silent  rage,  and  gripped 
the  stock  of  his  rifle  so  firmly  his  fingers  ached. 

"  Let's  be  up  and  doing!  "  he  cried  hotly. 

The  Shawnee  answered :  "  White  Eagle  and  Sil- 
verheels  are  only  two;  the  Delawares  and  Wyan- 
dots  are  many.  They  are  squaws,  but  they  are  cun- 
ning and  merciless.  If  we  would  rescue  the  blue- 
eyed  maiden,  we  must  fight  fire  with  fire.  We  must 
oppose  cunning  with  cunning.  If  the  braves  of 
Red  Fox  discover  our  tracks  in  the  snow,  they  will 
be  on  their  guard.  It  must  nol  be.  We  will  seek 


348  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

a  hiding  place,  and  there  remain  until  the  hungry 
sun  has  eaten  all  the  snow.  Then,  at  night,  we  will 
creep  into  the  den  of  the  Red  Fox  and  bear  off  the 
Blue-eyed  Pigeon." 

"  But,"  Paul  objected,  "  it  may  be  many  days  ere 
the  snow's  gone." 

"  No,"  Silverheels  replied  positively,  "  in  a  few 
days  the  ground  will  be  brown.  The  sun  is  very 
hungry.  Like  a  greedy  pig,  he  will  eat  all  day  long. 
Red  Fox  will  send  out  scouts  to  look  for  us  ;  but  they 
will  return  to  the  village  and  say  that  no  palefaces 
are  in  the  surrounding  forest.  Then  will  the  Red 
Fox  feel  secure  and  grow  careless  —  and  White  Ea- 
gle and  the  Shawnee  will  carry  off  the  blue-eyed 
maiden." 

"  And  Gumbo,"  Paul  completed. 

"  Ugh !  "  Silverheels  assented ;  but  the  manner 
in  which  he  uttered  the  guttural  monosyllable  indi- 
cated that  he  was  not  heartily  in  favor  of  his  friend's 
amendment.  It  was  evident  he  had  a  feeling  of 
aversion  for  Paul's  sable  friend. 

"  I  must  submit  to  your  better  judgment,"  Gray- 
don  said,  reluctance  in  his  voice,  "  but  I  don't  know 
how  I  am  to  endure  it.  Where  shall  we  stay  until 
it's  time  to  rescue  the  captives  ?  " 

"  I  know  a  place  where  we  may  hide  for  weeks, 
and  no  Delaware  or  Wyandot  can  discover  our 
retreat.  Let  us  go." 

"Is  it  far  away?" 

"  No,  come ;  I  will  show  you." 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  349 

"  What  a  strange  being !  "  the  young  Englishman 
thought,  as  he  followed  the  redman.  "  At  one  time, 
he  is  an  Indian  with  all  the  instincts  and  attributes 
of  a  savage ;  at  another,  he  is  a  white  man  endowed 
with  the  most  admirable  qualities  of  the  race.  Just 
now  he  dropped  his  figurative  style  of  speech  and 
spoke  as  the  whites  do,  in  the  first  person.  I  could 
have  closed  my  eyes  and  readily  believed  I  heard 
the  voice  of  an  educated  and  refined  American  or 
Englishman." 

Silverheels  led  the  way  along  the  ridge,  until 
they  came  to  a  point  a  mile  or  more  up  the  river 
from  the  Indian  village.  Here  they  crossed  the  val- 
ley and  ascended  the  eastern  hills.  Continuing  their 
course  along  this  ridge,  in  the  direction  of  the  vil- 
lage, they  came  to  a  deep  and  rocky  ravine  that 
opened  into  the  river  valley,  a  few  rods  above  the 
camp.  Scrambling  over  rocks  and  swinging  by 
vines  and  bushes,  they  reached  the  bottom  of  this 
cleft.  The  ground  was  strewn  with  large,  irregular 
bowlders,  that  had  fallen  from  the  beetling  cliffs. 
A  dusky  twilight  pervaded  the  place  and  gave  ob- 
jects near  and  remote  a  ghostly  and  unreal  appear- 
ance. 

The  floor  of  the  ravine  rose  gradually  until  it 
reached  the  level  of  the  hilltops,  about  two  miles 
back  from  the  Tuscarawas.  Where  the  ravine 
opened  into  the  river  valley,  the  thread-like  brook 
poured  its  puny  flood  over  a  ledge  of  rocks  about 
thirty  feet  in  height.  The  only  way  to  reach  the 


350  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST,  CLAIR 

place  where  our  two  friends  were  standing,  was 
to  follow  down  the  little  stream  from  its  origin,  two 
miles  away ;  or,  at  the  risk  of  neck  and  limb,  to 
swing  down  the  nearly  perpendicular  face  of  the 
cliffs,  as  they  had  done. 

"Is  this  the  place  of  which  my  red  brother 
spoke?"  Paul  asked. 

"  Ugh !  "  was  the  curt  response. 

"  Tis  a  lonesome  and  forbidding  place  in  which 
to  spend  days  of  anxiety  and  nights  of  suspense," 
the  young  man  remarked. 

"  White  Eagle  has  not  seen  all,"  Silverheels  re- 
plied calmly.  "  Let  him  come  with  the  Shawnee." 

The  Indian  turned  the  corner  of  an  immense 
boulder  and  entered  a  narrow  fissure  in  the  rocky 
wall.  Paul  kept  close  to  the  redman's  heels.  They 
left  the  dim  twilight  behind  them  and  plunged  into 
the  stygian  blackness  of  a  low-roofed  passage. 

"  Hold !  "  cried  Paul,  "  I  can  see  nothing.  Where 
are  you  leading?" 

Silverheels  placed  the  muzzle  of  his  gun  in  the 
young  man's  hand,  saying: 

"  Follow ;  I  will  lead  you." 

As  they  proceeded  the  crevice  that  they  were 
traversing  grew  wider  and  higher.  Paul  noted  that 
the  air  of  the  passage  was  warm  and  wet,  but  fresh 
and  sweet ;  and  he  marveled  that  it  should  be  so, 
On  they  went  for  quite  a  distance,  the  floor  of  the 
entrance  rising  and  growing  drier  all  the  while, 
The  Shawnee  silently  threaded  the  serpentine  entry 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R  351 

as  though  perfectly  familiar  with  its  intricate  turn- 
ings. At  last  he  stopped  and  said : 

"  White  Eagle  stands  in  the  center  of  a  cavern 
whose  existence  is  known  to  but  two  men  —  and 
my  white  brother  is  one  of  them." 

Though  the  Indian  spoke  in  a  low  tone,  his  voice 
was  amplified  by  the  close  air  and  rocky  walls  to 
such  an  extent  that  his  words  sounded  with  almost 
startling  distinctness.  From  this  Paul  judged  that 
the  cave  was  large  and  high,  and  in  this  he  was  not 
mistaken.  What  surprised  him  most,  however,  was 
the  fact  that  a  faint  glow  illuminated  it,  and  that 
the  form  of  his  companion  and  the  rugged  walls 
themselves  were  dimly  visible.  He  looked  around 
for  the  cause,  and  was  surprised  to  see  a  subdued 
light  at  the  end  of  the  cavern  farthest  from  him. 
As  though  divining  his  friend's  thoughts,  Silverheels 
caught  him  by  the  hand  and  led  him  toward  the 
light.  They  had  gone  but  a  few  yards,  when  Paul 
made  the  discovery  that  they  were  drawing  near  to 
a  second  outlet,  and  that  the  blinding  daylight  was 
streaming  through  it. 

This  opening  looked  down  upon  the  valley  of  the 
Tuscarawas ;  and  directly  beneath  it  lay  the  Indian 
village.  It  was  fifty  feet  above  the  level  of  the  plain 
upon  which  the  camp  stood,  and  was  concealed  from 
view  by  a  dense  growth  of  laurel  and  wild  plum 
bushes  that  had  foothold  upon  a  projecting  ledge  of 
rocks.  The  hill  immediately  back  of  the  village 
rose  vertically  to  a  height  of  one  hundred  feet ;  and 


352  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

midway  between  its  crest  and  base  was  the  outlet 
of  the  cave. 

Silverheels  and  Paul  reached  the  projecting  ledge 
and  looked  down  upon  the  landscape  spread  out  at 
their  feet.  They  were  concealed  from  the  gaze  of 
those  below,  by  the  bushes  along  the  outer  edge 
of  the  ledge.  From  their  elevated  point  of  observa- 
tion, they  could  have  thrown  a  stone  into  the  center 
of  the  group  of  huts  dotting  the  plain  beneath. 

Paul  smothered  his  exclamation  of  wonder  and 
surprise,  and  remarked : 

"  We  cannot  descend  to  the  plain  from  this  out- 
let, my  red  brother." 

"  Nor  can  the  Delawares  and  Wyandots  enter  our 
hiding  place  through  it." 

"  True ;  but  how  are  we  to  reach  the  village  when 
we  wish  to  do  so  ?  " 

"  The  Shawnee  knows  the  way ;  there  is  a  break 
in  the  ledge  at  the  mouth  of  the  ravine." 

"  And  can  we  descend  and  return  in  that  way  ?  " 

"  Ugh ! " 

"  Are  you  sure  our  enemies  cannot  reach  us 
here?" 

"  Have  the  Delawares  and  Wyandots  wings  with 
which  to  scale  the  face  of  the  cliffs  ?  "  was  the  Shaw- 
nee's  rejoinder. 

"No"  —  and  Paul  glanced  upward  at  the  jut- 
ting rocks  that  overhung  the  mouth  of  the  cavern  — 
"  but  may  they  not  enter  from  the  ravine  ?  " 

With  a  positive  shake  of  the  head,  Silverheels  re- 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  353 

plied  :  "  White  Eagle  has  naught  to  fear.  His  ene- 
mies are  ignorant,  of  the  existence  of  the  cave." 

"  But  should  they  discover  it  and  enter  it  from 
the  ravine,  we  should  be  caught  like  rats  in  a  hole ; 
there  would  be  no  way  of  escape." 

A  self-satisfied  smile,  for  a  moment,  hovered 
around  the  Indian's  mouth,  as  he  answered  compla- 
cently :  "  Though  the  brown  mole  is  blind  he  can 
find  a  way  out  of  his  hole  in  the  ground.  Silver- 
heels  is  not  a  deaf  and  blind  mole;  he  has  eyes 
and  ears.  Though  the  cavern  should  swarm  with 
Delaware  and  Wyandot  braves,  he  would  fight  his 
way  through  them  and  escape.  White  Eagle,  the 
cave  has  another  opening,  but  it  is  dangerous  and 
difficult  to  follow.  When  the  time  comes,  the  Shaw- 
nee  will  show  it  to  his  white  brother.  Now  he  must 
procure  meat  and  means  of  cooking  it.  Let  White 
Eagle  follow  him." 

The  two  retraced  their  steps  to  the  ravine. 
There  they  procured  a  quantity  of  driftwood  that 
had  been  deposited  among  the  bowlders,  by  the  lit- 
tle stream  when  it  was  swollen  by  heavy  rain  or 
melting  snow,  and  returned  with  it  to  the  cavern. 
They  made  several  trips  to  and  fro,  conveying  to 
their  retreat  enough  fuel  to  last  them  a  week.  In 
doing  this  Paul  learned  to  follow  the  tortuous 
course  of  the  subterranean  passage  —  which  was 
more  than  a  hundred  yards  in  length  —  by  the  sense 

of  touch. 
23 


354  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

When  they  had  completed  their  task,  Silverheels 
kindled  a  fire  upon  the  floor,  saying : 

"  Let  my  white  brother  lie  down  and  rest ;  I  go 
to  the  woods  to  procure  meat." 

Ere  Paul  could  make  reply,  the  Indian  was  gone. 
The  young  man  threw  himself  upon  the  dusty  floor 
and  watched  the  dancing  flames  and  sparkling  env 
bers. 

"  It's  quite  a  comfortable  place,"  he  mused,  "  and 
the  fire  makes  it  light  and  cheerful ;  but  what  be- 
comes of  the  smoke?  Evidently  it  escapes  through 
crevices  in  the  roof.  I  trust  it  won't  reveal  our  hid- 
ing place.  I  wish  Marie  and  Gumbo  were  here.  I'll 
rescue  them,  however,  or  lose  my  life  in  the  at- 
tempt ! " 

He  had  fallen  asleep.  When  he  awoke,  the  Shaw- 
nee  was  sitting  by  the  fire,  busily  engaged  in  broiling 
venison  upon  the  red  coals.  Paul's  first  words  were : 

"You  are  back?" 

"  Ugh !  "  his  companion  grunted,  without  looking 
up. 

"And  you  were  successful?" 

A  nod  of  the  tufted  head. 

"  Is  it  afternoon  ?  " 

"  The  sun  is  low  in  the  western  skies." 

They  ate  heartily  of  the  savory  meat;  and  lay 
down  to  sleep.  As  the  young  Englishman  was  again 
crossing  the  threshold,  he  roused  himself  and  asked  : 

"  Silverheels,  how  long  have  you  known  of  this 
cavern  ? " 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R  355 

"  When  the  Shawnee  was  a  youth,  he  tracked  a 
panther  to  his  lair.  The  fierce  beast's  home  was  in 
this  cave." 

A  few  moments  later  their  heavy  breathing  de- 
noted that  both  men  slept. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

THREE  days  passed,  and  mild  weather  came.  The 
noisy  streams  swelled  their  bosoms,  and  again 
the  brown  earth  was  stark.  The  air  grew  moist; 
and  fleecy  fog  hung  heavy  over  the  river  and  larger 
water  courses. 

Red  Wallace  improved  rapidly.  Rest  and  shelter 
worked  wonders  in  his  condition.  He  recovered 
from  the  effects  of  excessive  hemorrhage  and  re- 
gained a  part  of  his  wonted  strength.  His  distress- 
ing cough  and  shortness  of  breath  did  not  entirely 
disappear,  however,  and  frequent  pain  in  the  chest 
reminded  him  that  his  wound  was  not  wholly  healed. 

The  Indians  were  angry  over  the  loss  of  the  two 
warriors  slain  by  Silverheels,  and  thirsted  for  re- 
venge. They  attributed  the  death  of  their  comrades 
to  the  markmanship  of  Gumbo.  Their  only  reason 
for  believing  that  it  was  the  negro  was  that  they 
had  found  him  upon  their  trail.  At  a  meeting  in 
the  council  lodge,  the  night  after  the  return  of  the 
party,  they  demanded  that  the  darky  be  given  over 
to  them,  to  torture,  and  that  Wallace  at  once  pay 
them  the  balance  of  the  gold  he  had  promised.  The 
wily  renegade  acceded  to  their  demands  for  the  sur- 
render of  the  black,  but  explained  that  he  —  Wallace 
(356) 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  357 

-must  go  to  Marietta  for  the  gold,  and  begged 
them  to  be  patient  until  he  was  able  to  make  the 
journey.  He  told  them  that  they  should  have  their 
share  without  fail,  on  his  return,  and  that  he  would 
send  a  runner  to  the  Maumee  with  the  coin  for  the 
Wyandots  who  had  gone  there  with  the  male  pris- 
oners. 

There  was  some  grumbling  at  the  delay ;  but  on 
the  whole  his  explanations  and  promises  were  satis- 
factory. The  readiness  with  which  he  relinquished 
all  claim  to  Gumbo  disarmed  his  hearers  of  suspi- 
cion. They  did  not  know  the  blood-thirsty  scoun- 
drel was  well  pleased  that  the  unfortunate  negro 
was  to  meet  a  horrible  death  at  their  hands.  Red 
Wallace  had  not  forgotten  the  Fourth  of  July,  nor 
the  pummeling  he  had  received  from  Paul  Graydon. 

It  was  the  night  before  the  day  set  for  the  torture 
of  poor  Gumbo.  A  heavy  mist  enshrouded  the  val- 
ley. Here  and  there,  the  light  of  a  fire  or  torch 
twinkled  in  one  of  the  low  huts ;  but  all  else  was 
wrapped  in  darkness. 

In  the  cavern,  Paul  Graydon  and  his  red  compan- 
ion were  engaged  in  earnest  conversation.  The 
flickering  firelight  plashed  the  rough  rock  walls  and 
faintly  illuminated  the  faces  of  the  two  men.  There 
came  to  their  ears  the  soft  drip  of  water  in  the  wind- 
ing passage  leading  to  the  ravine.  Paul  was  saying : 

"  I  cannot  bear  this  inactivity  longer.  Marie 
knows  nothing  of  our  presence  in  the  vicinity ;  and 
no  doubt  has  given  up  all  hope  of  rescue.  There's 


358  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

no  need  of  further  delay.  The  snow  is  gone ;  so  we 
shall  leave  no  marked  trail  to  betray  us.  The  red 
men  are  unaware  that  we  are  near,  and  the  camp  is 
unguarded.  The  night  is  favorable  —  let's  make  the 
attempt  to  rescue  them.  What  have  you  to  say,  my 
friend?" 

For  some  seconds  the  Shawnee  puffed  in  silence, 
at  the  long-stemmed  pipe  he  had  lighted.  He  in- 
haled the  blue  and  pungent  smoke  into  his  deep 
chest,  and  exhaled  it  through  his  aqualine  nose,  with 
every  indication  of  enjoyment.  Presently  he  re- 
moved the  pipe  from  his  lips  and  said  slowly : 

"  Would  White  Eagle  attempt  to  carry  off  the 
blue-eyed  maiden  and  the  black  man,  ere  he  knows 
where  they  are  or  how  they  are  guarded  ?  " 

"Well  — well!"  Paul  cried  irritably.  "What, 
then,  shall  we  do?  " 

"  Silverheels  would  glide  into  the  village,  learn 
what  he  wishes  to  know,  and  return  to  his  white 
brother." 

"  I  will  accompany  you,"  said  Graydon,  rising  to 
his  feet. 

"  No !  " —  and  the  word  had  in  it  the  ring  of  unal- 
terable opposition  —  "  the  Shawnee  will  go  alone. 
Two  men  are  more  easily  seen  than  one;  two  men 
make  more  noise  than  one.  Silverheels  will  go 
alone.  He  will  steal  into  the  camp  and  creep  among 
the  lodges,  as  the  serpent  wriggles  through  the  tall 
grass.  He  will  keep  his  eyes  and  ears  open ;  he  will 
see  and  hear  much.  He  will  go  alone." 


IN  THE. DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  359 

Without  waiting  for  reply,  he  leaped  to  his  feet 
caught  up  his  rifle,  and  glided  out  of  the  cavern  with 
the  noiselessness  of  a  spirit. 

In  the  center  of  the  large  council  lodge  of  the 
village,  a  fire  smouldered.  The  dark  smoke  ascend- 
ed to  the  roof  and  escaped  through  an  opening  left 
for  the  purpose.  Now  and  then  a  tongue  of  red 
flame  shot  out  of  the  bed  of  glowing  embers  and 
licked  at  the  surrounding  darkness.  Its  fitful  light 
revealed  the  forms  of  the  two  occupants  of  the  large, 
unfloored  room.  Close  to  the  fire  was  a  Wyandot 
warrior.  He  sat  bolt  upright,  his  legs  doubled  under 
him  and  his  gun  resting  across  his  lap.  Immovable 
as  a  figure  of  hammered  copper,  he  stared  into  the 
red  coals,  neither  moving  a  muscle  nor  batting  an 
eye.  Back  in  the  depths  of  the  thickest  darkness, 
lay  Gumbo.  He  rested  upon  the  bare  ground,  near 
the  log  wall  of  the  building,  with  his  legs  and  arms 
securely  fettered.  His  eyes  were  closed,  but  he  was 
not  asleep.  Of  a  sudden  he  moaned  and  stirred. 
Then  he  moved  his  limbs  and  attempted  to  sit  up ; 
but  fell  back  with  a  groan  of  pain,  and  commenced 
to  talk  to  himself : 

"  I  isn't  gwine  to  be  able  to  stan'  dis  kin'  of  usury 
berry  much  longer  —  I  isn't.  I  hasn't  nobody  to  talk 
to,  eben;  dat  Injin  debil  jes  sets  dar  an'  looks  at  de 
coals  widout  blinkin'  an  eye  —  neber  says  nuffin'. 
Silberheels  was  bad  'miff ;  but  he  could  grunt.  I 
wonder  whar  dat  Shawnee  an'  Marse  Paul  am.  Dey's 
a  pow'ful  long  time  in  findin'  dis  nigger.  An'  Miss 


360  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

M'rie  —  de  purty  little  gal  —  'spect  dat  good-fo'- 
nuffin  runygate's  to'mentin'  de  sweet  life  outen  'er. 
Whew!  but  dese  strings  does  cut  into  dis  darky's 
meat.  'Bout  one  mo'  day,  an'  I  won't  hab  no  feet  n'r 
ban's  —  dey'll  be  plumb  sawed  in  two.  Wish  I  could 
jes  set  up  a  little  minute  —  jes  to  res'  my  achin' 
bones.  JF  I  eber  gits  free,  I'll  make  de  mos'  inani- 
mate vituperation  fo'  dat  outlawin'  cuss  —  I  will ! 
Here  comes  somebody  dis  berry  minute.  Guess  I'd 
bes'  pr'ten'  to  be  'sleep  —  maby  it's  dat  Red  Wallace, 
hisse'f." 

A  dark  figure  stalked  through  the  open  doorway 
and  came  toward  the  center  of  the  room.  It  was  the 
outlaw.  He  said  a  few  words  in  the  Wyandot  tongue 
to  the  watchful  Indian,  who  immediately  arose 
and  left  the  lodge.  When  Wallace  and  Gumbo  were 
left  alone,  the  former  stirred  the  fire  into  a  blaze, 
and,  drawing  near,  said  sneeringly : 

"  Hello,  nigger  !    Feeling  first  rate,  eh  ?  " 

The  darky  feigned  sleep.  The  renegade  touched 
him  with  his  foot  and  cried : 

"  Wake  up,  you  thick-headed  brute !  Don't  you 
hear  me  talking  to  you  ?  " 

Gumbo  opened  his  eyes  slowly  and  returned : 

"  Is  dat  you,  Marse  Wallace  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  is  dat  you  ?  "  Wallace  mimicked.  "  Now, 
nigger,"  he  continued,  "  wake  up ;  I  want  to  talk  to 
you." 

He  seated  himself  upon  the  ground  by  Gumbo's 
side,  and  went  on :  "  You  remember  that  you  threw 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  361 

me  twice  in  a  wrestle  at  Marietta,  and  made  me  the 
laughing  stock  of  the  crowd.  I  was  mad ;  and,  as  a 
consequence,  I  received  a  drubbing  at  the  hands  of 
your  master,  Mr.  Paul  Graydon.  You  remember? 
Well,  I  vowed  then  and  there  to  be  revenged  upon 
both  of  you.  My  time  has  come.  I've  Paul  Gray- 
don's  sweetheart  and  yourself  in  my  power.  I 
haven't  decided  yet  what  I'll  do  with  the  murderous 
jade"  —  here  he  ground  his  teeth  —  "but  as  for 
you,  I've  given  you  over  to  the  tender  mercies  of 
my  red  hounds.  They'll  burn  you,  skin  you  alive, 
and  tear  you  limb  from  limb.  Do  you  know  that 
when  morning  dawns,  you're  to  die  —  die  a  death 
the  thought  of  which  makes  the  bravest  men  tremble 
and  turn  pale?  " 

"  I  doesn't  know  nuffin'  ob  de  kin',"  Gumbo  re- 
plied, without  a  tremor. 

"  Well,  you  are.  This  is  your  last  night  upon 
earth." 

"  I  doesn't  b'liebe  it !  "  the  darky  returned,  stout- 
ly. "  De  good  Lo'd  isn't  done  gone  fo'sooken  dis 
nigger,  in  no  demonstratin'  way  like  dat  —  he  isn't. 
Ol'  Gumbo  isn't  skeered  a  mite.  'Sides  dar's 
Marse  —  " 

He  was  going  to  say  that  he  expected  Paul  and 
Silverheels  to  rescue  him;  but  he  checked  himself 
just  in  time.  Wallace  was  watching  him,  keenly 
alert  to  his  every  word  and  expression.  Now  the 
renegade  cried  sharply : 

"Besides  what?    Go  on!" 


362  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

Gumbo  was  lying  with  his  back  within  a  few 
inches  of  the  log  wall.  Just  at  that  moment,  he  heard 
a  faint  scratching  sound  on  the  other  side  of  the 
wooden  barrier.  Then  something  that  felt  like  a  hu- 
man hand  gently  touched  his  shoulder. 

Red  Wallace  repeated  his  words :  "  Besides 
what?" 

"  Nuffin  ',"  the  darky  replied. 

"  I  know  what  you  were  going  to  say.  You  were 
going  to  say  that  Paul  Graydon  and  his  comrades 
would  rescue  you." 

And  the  outlaw  closely  watched  for  the  effect  of 
his  words.  But  Gumbo  gave  no  sign  by  word  or 
look  that  his  inquisitor  had  hit  upon  the  truth.  Wal- 
lace continued : 

"  The  Indians  want  to  torture  you  because  they 
believe  you  killed  two  of  their  comrades,  the  night 
the  blockhouse  was  burned.  Of  course  I  know  it 
wasn't  you  did  it.  It  was  one  of  the  settlers  that  es- 
caped from  the  cabin  at  Big  Bottom,  or  some  other 
white.  I  know  also  that  there  were  others  upon  our 
trail  besides  yourself;  and  that  they  are  hovering 
around  the  camp  at  the  present  time.  Now,  you  tell 
me  who  they  are,  and  I'll  do  my  best  to  have  the  In- 
dians abandon  their  idea  of  killing  you  tomorrow. 
I'll  try  to  make  them  believe  that  your  comrades  are 
guilty.  This  is  your  only  chance  for  life.  Without 
my  intervention,  you  die.  What  do  you  say  ?  " 

Wallace  had  no  idea  of  interfering  in  behalf  of  the 
darky.  But  the  conscienceless  scoundrel  was  not 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  363 

averse  to  telling  a  lie,  when  it  answered  his  purpose. 
The  black  simply  set  his  heavy  jaws  and  made  no 
reply. 

"What  do  you  say?"  Wallace  repeated  impa- 
tiently. 

"  I  doesn't  say  nuffin ',"  Gumbo  replied  at  last ; 
"  I  doesn't  b'liebe  a  word  you  says.  If  de  Injin 
debils  is  gwine  to  kill  ol'  Gumbo,  dey'll  kill  him  — 
dat's  all ;  an'  you  wouldn't  sabe  him  if  you  could.  I 
knows  you!  If  you  knows  dat  dar's  white  folks 
hangin'  'round  de  camp,  you  ought  to  know  who 
dey  am,  widout  'quirin'  ob  dis  nigger." 

The  darky  stopped  suddenly.  That  mysterious 
touch  was  again  laid  upon  his  shoulder,  and  the 
word,  "  Courage,"  was  breathed  into  his  ear.  Wal- 
lace arose;  and,  with  a  dark  scowl  upon  his  flabby 
face,  hissed : 

"  Die,  you  stubborn  black  dolt !  Curse  your  im- 
pudent picture!  When  you're  undergoing  the  ag- 
onies of  torture,  I'll  stand  by  and  mock  you ;  and  I 
won't  lift  a  finger  to  save  you !  " 

In  a  towering  passion,  he  strode  out  of  the  lodge ; 
and  Gumbo  was  left  alone.  In  a  few  moments,  the 
Wyandot  returned  and  took  up  his  old  position  by 
the  fire. 

"  So  I's  to  die  tomorrow,"  the  negro  muttered  to 
himself,  as  the  Wyandot's  grotesque  shadow  again 
floated  upon  the  opposite  wall.  "  I's  gwine  to  be 
bu'ned,  an'  drawed  an'  quartered,  is  I  ?  Well,  w'ile 
dey's  doin'  all  dat  to  me,  wat'll  /  be  doin  '  ?  Does 


364  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

dey  'spect  dat  ol'  Gumbo'll  jes  set  still  an'  let  'em 
poke  him  full  ob  holes  ?  'Sides,  I  guesses  dat  Marse 
Paul  an'  Silberheels'll  hab  somefin'  to  say,  too  —  I 
does.  It  was  dat  Shawnee  out  dar  punchin'  me  froo 
de  crack.  I  knowed  him  by  de  contents  ob  his  mod- 
ulation, w'en  he  said,  '  Courage.'  De  whisper  ob  his 
vocabulary  seemed  to  come  clean  outen  his  mocca- 
sins. Can't  fool  dis  nigger  —  dat  was  Silberheels !  " 

The  darky  was  right  in  his  surmise.  It  was  Sil- 
verheels.  As  the  herculean  form  of  Red  Wallace 
darkened  the  doorway  of  the  council  lodge,  the 
Shawnee  sprang  from  his  reclining  position  by  the 
log  wall  and  like  a  great  bat  flitted  away  in  the  dark- 
ness. The  renegade  sought  the  cabin  near  at  hand, 
where  Marie  was  confined.  With  clenched  hand  he 
thundered  upon  the  closed  door.  When  it  was  un- 
barred from  the  inside,  he  stepped  over  the  sill  and 
closed  it  behind  him.  As  he  did  so,  Silverheels  came 
around  the  corner  of  the  hut,  and,  throwing  himself 
prone  upon  the  earth,  glued  his  eye  to  the  crack  be- 
neath the  door. 

The  building  in  which  Marie  was  held  a  prisoner 
did  not  differ  materially  from  any  other  in  the  vil- 
lage. It  was  a  crude  affair  without  floor  or  fire- 
place. The  walls  were  of  large  poles  loosely  piled 
one  above  another;  and  the  roof  was  of  brush  and 
bark.  A  small  opening  in  one  side  admitted  light 
and  air,  and  a  larger  one  in  the  roof  served  the  pur- 
pose of  a  chimney.  In  the  center  of  the  small,  close 
room,  a  few  coals  snapped  and  crackled.  Upon  a 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  365 

pile  of  furs  in  one  corner,  lay  the  fair  prisoner.  Her 
garments  were  in  rags  and  her  face  was  pale  and 
anxious.  In  the  opposite  corner  sat  an  aged  crone ; 
her  coarse,  gray  locks  fell  in  a  tangled  mass  about 
her  wrinkled  face,  full  of  cunning,  cruelty  and  avar- 
ice. She  was  an  old,  old  woman,  and  yet  the  fires  of 
evil  passion  still  burned  fiercely. 

She  had  unbarred  the  door  for  the  outlaw  and 
then  reseated  herself.  As  he  stood  in  the  middle  of 
the  room,  silently  surveying  the  young  girl  upon  the 
couch  of  furs,  the  old  hag  cackled  shrilly : 

"  Ha,  ha !  The  Red  Fox  comes  to  visit  the  pale- 
face squaw.  She  is  fair;  but  she  is  a  fierce  eagle. 
Has  not  the  Red  Fox  felt  her  beak?  Let  him  be- 
ware ;  her  claws  may  reach  his  heart.  Ha,  ha !  " 

"  Stop  your  clack,  you  old  fool !  "  Wallace  cried 
roughly,  as  he  scowled  fiercely  upon  her. 

Both  spoke  in  the  Delaware  language ;  and  Marie 
could  not  understand  a  word  that  was  said. 

"  The  Red  Fox's  tongue  is  sharp,"  the  crone 
mumbled  with  toothless  jaws,  "  but  not  so  sharp 
as  the  eagle's  claws;  Red  Fox  cannot  kill  with  his 
tongue."  Again  she  laughed  that  cracked,  discord- 
ant laugh. 

"  Shut  up!  "  the  renegade  thundered.  "  If  Bitter 
Water  wants  to  have  a  whole  bone  left  in  her  mis- 
shapen and  worthless  carcass,  she'd  better  hold  her 
limber  tongue !  " 

The  aged  squaw  muttered  something  and  was  si- 
lent. The  renegade  lighted  a  torch  and  stuck  it  into 


366  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

a  crevice  in  the  wall ;  then  walked  over  to  Marie  and 
said: 

"  Glad  to  see  an  old  friend,  my  princess,  eh  ?  " 

Receiving  no  reply,  he  resumed :  "  Still  surly  — 
still  pouting,  eh  ?  Well,  you'll  find  your  voice  after 
awhile,  I  warrant.  Fire  has  a  wonderfully  loosen- 
ing influence  on  a  stiff  and  stubborn  tongue.  I  came 
in  to  tell  you  a  bit  of  good  news ;  thought  it  might 
cheer  up  you.  Your  nigger  is  to  run  the 
gauntlet  in  the  morning.  It's  great  sport ;  of  course 
you'll  want  to  go  out  and  see  it.  Shall  I  call  for  you, 
when  it  comes  off  ?  " 

The  French  girl  shuddered.  With  a  half  sob  in 
her  voice,  she  said : 

"  Please  do  not  say  more.  Would  you  kill  me 
with  your  horrible  recital  ?  " 

"  I  see  you  can  talk  when  you  want  to,"  the  out- 
law chuckled.  "  Here's  another  bit  of  good  news 
for  you :  "I  leave  here  in  a  few  days,  never  to  re- 
turn. I  go  to  claim  the  charming  Miss  Lovelace  for 
my  bride.  With  her  I'll  return  to  Virginia  and  set- 
tle down  to  married  life  —  to  a  luxurious  and  peace- 
ful existence  among  my  old  acquaintances  in  the 
valley  of  the  Shenandoah.  Oh !  it's  better  to  be  born 
fortunate  than  handsome.  What  a  lucky  star  I  was 
born  under!  When  I  leave  here,  you  and  the  red- 
skins will  see  me  no  more.  Not  a  grain  of  all  the 
gold  I  have  promised  the  red  hounds  will  they  ever 
get.  I'll  live  a  live  of  peace  and  plenty;  while 
you'll  live  and  die  the  drudge  of  some  Delaware  or 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  367 

Wyandot  brave.  Enchanting  prospect  for  you,  eh  ? 
Don't  you  wish  the  knife  had  gone  a  little  deeper 
when  you  struck  me?  You'll  do  well  if  you  escape 
death  at  the  stake.  The  redskins  will  burn  you  alive, 
if  you  cross  them.  How  the  lovely  Hester  will  re- 
joice when  I  bear  the  good  tidings  to  her !  " 

Wallace  stopped  suddenly,  his  attention  attracted 
by  the  strange  actions  of  the  old  hag  in  the  corner. 
Her  sunken  eyeballs  gleamed  like  coals  of  fire,  and 
her  claw-like  fingers  dug  into  the  hard  earth  and 
twitched  convulsively.  Her  toothless  jaws  were  set 
and  her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  form  of  the  rene- 
gade. 

"  What  the  mischief's  the  matter  with  you,  you  in- 
fernal old  beldame?"  he  howled,  turning  angrily 
upon  her. 

Marie  had  buried  her  face  in  the  pile  of  furs  and 
placed  her  hands  over  her  ears,  to  exclude  the  sound 
of  his  hateful  voice.  Now  she  slyly  peeped  out  to 
ascertain  the  cause  of  his  outburst  of  passion.  She 
saw  the  crone  spring  to  her  feet  with  a  nimble  and 
vigorous  leap  that  was  remarkable  for  one  of  her 
years,  and  clutch  at  the  throat  of  the  surprised  out- 
law. With  all  the  strength  at  his  command,  Wallace 
shook  off  the  ancient  squaw's  feeble  grasp,  and,  seiz- 
ing her  by  the  shoulders,  flung  her  to  the  ground, 
where  she  lay  moaning  and  whimpering  childishly. 
Then  with  the  words  —  "  Bar  the  door  and  mind 
the  girl,  you  toothless  huzzy !  "  —  he  strode  out, 
muttering  as  he  went : 


368  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  I've  committed  a  terrible  blunder ;  I  forgot  Bit- 
ter Water  understands  English !  Her  tongue  must 
be  silenced.  Once  let  the  redskins  become  aware 
of  my  intentions,  and  my  life  wouldn't  be  worth  a 
mink-skin.  What's  to  be  done?  One  thing  is  cer- 
tain; I  must  hasten  my  departure.  Gods!  what  a 
fool  I  was  to  indulge  in  idle  boasting.  The  hag 
must  die  before  she  blabs  my  secret !  " 

He  went  directly  to  his  own  cabin  up  the  stream. 
Scarcely  had  the  sound  of  his  light  footfalls  died 
out,  when  Silverheels  crept  from  the  black  shade  of 
old  Bitter  Water's  low  hut  and  stole  away  toward 
the  cavern  in  the  hillside. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

PAUL  GRAYDON  sat  impatiently  awaiting  the  re- 
turn of  his  red  friend.  The  fire  on  the  cavern 
floor  burned  dim  and  low,  and  a  torch  stuck  into 
the  rock  wall  spluttered  and  went  out.  The  young 
man  arose,  walked  to  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  and 
looked  down  upon  the  sleeping  village.  He  could 
see  nothing  for  the  dense  mist  flowed  like  a  river 
of  milk  over  the  site  of  the  Indian  camp ;  and  he  re- 
turned to  the  fire.  It  was  midnight ;  and  an  oppres- 
sive silence  seemed  to  hang  about  him. 

"  Will  he  never  come  ?  "  Graydon  whispered  fret- 
fully to  himself,  as  he  raised  his  arms  above  his  head 
and  yawned. 

A  hazy  shadow  fell  upon  the  floor;  and  Silver- 
heels  stood  beside  him. 

"  What  have  you  to  report  ?  "  cried  Paul,  hastily 
getting  upon  his  feet. 

In  a  few  crisp  sentences,  the  Shawnee  told  all  he 
had  seen  and  heard.  He  closed  his  recital  by  saying : 

"  The  blue-eyed  maiden  may  be  rescued.     She  is 

guarded  only  by  Bitter  Water ;  and  the  squaw  is  old 

and  weak.    But  the  black  man  is  lost  —  he  will  die 

tomorrow.    He  is  closely  watched  by  a  wakeful  Wy- 

24  (36g) 


370  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

andot  brave.  The  black  man  must  run  the  gaunt- 
let." 

"  Is  there  no  way  by  which  he  may  be  rescued  ?  " 
Paul  asked  feelingly. 

Silverheels  shook  his  head. 

"  Can  we  not  rush  in  and  save  him  when  he  is 
brought  out  ?  " 

"  We  are  but  two ;  the  Delawares  and  Wyandots 
are  many.  Would  White  Eagle  court  death  — 
would  he  abandon  the  blue-eyed  maiden  ?  " 

"  No ! "  the  young  Englishman  replied,  his  voice 
choked  with  emotion.  "  Nor  will  I  abandon  my 
black  friend.  If  he  dies,  I  die  with  him.  He  would 
risk  his  life  to  serve  me ;  I'll  risk  mine  to  save  him. 
I've  made  up  my  mind.  Hear  me,  my  red  brother ! 
Tonight  I  go  into  the  Indian  camp,  to  rescue  my 
true-love  and  my  black  friend.  I  go,  though  I  go 
alone.  What  says  the  brave  and  true  Shawnee  ?  " 

Silverheels'  countenance  shone  with  the  light  of 
sweet  and  tender  emotion.  His  whole  face  was  ir- 
radiated by  a  smile  such  as  Paul  had  never  seen 
upon  the  red  man's  rugged  features.  He  exclaimed : 

"  White  Eagle  is  brave ;  he  does  not  shrink  from 
death!  White  Eagle  is  true;  he  will  not  desert  a 
friend!  White  Eagle  is  Silverheels'  brother  —  the 
Shawnee  loves  him,  and  will  lead  or  follow  him 
wherever  he  goes !  " 

"  Thank  you,  my  red  brother ;  thank  you ! "  Paul 
murmured  in  an  almost  inaudible  voice. 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  371 

For  several  seconds  they  stood  face  to  face  in 
silence.  Silverheels  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  The  night  passes,"  he  said  in  soft,  gutteral  ac- 
cents ;  "  ere  the  dawn  of  another  day  we  may  be  in 
the  sprit-land  —  but  we  shall  not  be  parted.  If 
White  Eagle  falls,  Silverheels  will  fall  at  his  side. 
The  night  passes ;  let  us  hasten.  Death  lurks  among 
the  lodges  of  the  Delawares  and  Wyandots ;  let  us 
go  to  meet  him." 

"  Is  it  so  hopeless  ?  Have  we  so  little  chance  of 
success  ?  "  Graydon  asked. 

"  Ugh !  When  the  morning  sun  again  kisses  the 
hilltops,  the  blue-eyed  maiden  and  the  black  man 
will  be  with  us  in  the  cave,  or  with  us  in  the  spirit- 
laud.  If  we  do  not  succeed,  we  shall  die!  " 

"  Let  it  be  so !"  Paul  answered,  resolutely.  "  You 
know  the  way ;  lead  on." 

Taking  with  them  their  trusty  rifles  and  long 
keen  hunting-knives,  the  two  determined  men  left 
the  cavern  by  the  winding  passage  of  the  ravine. 
They  proceeded  cautiously  and  silently  down  the 
ravine,  to  its  mouth ;  passed  through  a  rift  in  the 
jutting  ledge  of  stone;  and  descended  to  the  valley 
by  a  narrow  and  precipitous  path  strewn  with  loose 
fragments  of  rock.  The  darkness  was  intense  and 
rendered  their  progress  slow  and  perilous ;  for  a 
step  upon  a  rolling  pebble  might  precipitate  one  or 
both  into  the  dark  depths,  with  a  crash  that  would 
arouse  the  entire  village.  Reaching  the  plain  in  si- 
lence and  safety,  they  crept,  little  by  little,  in  the  di- 


372  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

rection  of  old  Bitter  Water's  hut.  At  times  they 
boldly  walked  erect;  then  upon  hands  and  knees 
they  crept ;  again  they  threw  themselves  prone  and 
wormed  forward,  inch  by  inch.  Silverheels  led  and 
Graydon  closely  copied  the  Shawnee's  every  move- 
ment. As  they  were  passing  a  cabin,  where  a  dim 
light  burned,  a  stalwart  form  came  to  the  door  and 
gazed  intently  in  their  direction. 

"  Hist !  "  whispered  Silverheels,  grasping  his  com- 
panion's arm.  "  Stand ;  it  is  the  Red  Fox.  He  sees 
us  not." 

The  two  friends  stood  motionless  as  statues,  for 
several  minutes,  scarcely  daring  to  breathe.  After 
what  seemed  an  age,  Wallace  stepped  back  and 
closed  the  door. 

"  Come,"  the  Shawnee  breathed  into  Paul's  ear ; 
Red  Fox  saw  nothing  but  the  darkness." 

At  last  they  drew  near  the  lodge  where  Marie 
was  confined.  Not  a  ray  of  light  was  to  be  seen,  nor 
a  sound  to  be  heard.  With  a  silent  signal,  Silver- 
heels  crept  to  the  hole  in  the  wall  to  ascertain  the 
state  of  affairs  within  the  hut,  while  Paul  kept  an 
eye  upon  the  closed  doorway.  When  the  Shawnee 
returned  he  said : 

"  The  blue-eyed  maiden  sleeps.  Her  soft  breath- 
ing fills  the  lodge ;  but  Bitter  Water  is  dead  or  ab- 
sent. Now  is  the  time  to  act ;  let  White  Eagle  warn 
the  captive  of  his  presence." 

Paul  stepped  up  to  the  door  and  tried  it  with  the 
tips  of  his  fingers.  It  was  not  fastened ;  and  he 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  373 

pushed  it  open  and  stepped  inside,  closely  followed 
by  Silver-heels.  Suddenly  the  regular  breathing  of 
the  sleeper  ceased.  Paul  felt  his  way  to  the  corner 
in  which  his  sweetheart  lay  and  bending  over  her, 
whispered  softly : 

"  It  is  I  —  Paul.    Hist !  not  a  word." 

"  Paul  —  my  Paul !  "  she  answered  in  the  same 
low  tone.  "  You've  come  at  last.  I  had  begun  to 
fear  I  should  never  see  you  again." 

"You  are  tied?" 

"  Yes,  I'm  bound  hand  and  foot.  The  old  squaw 
secured  my  limbs  ere  she  left  the  cabin.  I  made  no 
resistance ;  I  knew  that  it  wouldn't  avail  me." 

"  Where  has  the  hag  gone?  "  Paul  inquired  as  he 
felt  for  his  hunting-knife. 

"  I  don't  know ;  she  left  me  an  hour  ago.  It  is  the 
first  time  she  has  been  absent  since  the  outlaw  placed 
me  in  her  care." 

Graydon  severed  the  thongs  and  helped  her  to 
arise.  Two  warm  arms  were  thrown  around  his 
neck  and  two  dewy  lips  met  his  own.  He  drew  her 
to  him  in  an  ecstacy  of  joy  at  again  having  her  un- 
der his  care  and  protection.  Silverheels  came  for- 
ward, and,  touching  Paul  upon  the  shoulder,  said 
earnestly : 

"  The  moments  are  fleet  of  foot ;  Bitter  Water  will 
soon  return.  Let  her  find  the  nest  deserted  and  the 
blue-eyed  pigeon  gone." 

"  Silverheels ! "  Marie  ejaculated  under  her 
breath. 


374  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  Yes,"  the  young  Englishman  replied,  arousing 
himself.  "  Without  his  help  I  never  should  have 
found  you.  Come,  there  is  no  time  for  delay." 

He  took  her  by  the  arm  and  carefully  led  her  from 
the  gloom  within  to  the  gloom  without.  On  reach- 
ing his  comrade's  side  Paul  asked : 

"Where  now?" 

"  The  black  man  is  in  the  council  lodge,"  was  the 
guttural  response ;  "  let  us  release  him,  and  leave  but 
our  tracks  in  the  village  of  the  Delawares  and  Wy- 
andots.  The  moments  will  not  wait  at  our  bidding. 
Soon  will  Bitter  Water  return  to  her  empty  lodge 
and  give  the  alarm.  Follow  the  Shawnee  and  let 
your  footfalls  be  as  soft  as  the  falling  mist.  The 
Delawares  and  Wyandots  are  light  sleepers;  they 
waken  at  the  sound  of  a  rustling  leaf." 

The  fog  and  mist  had  changed  to  a  steady  drizzle. 
The  darkness  was  impenetrable ;  and  the  wash  of  the 
river  near  at  hand  was  muffled  and  indistinct.  Soon 
they  felt,  rather  than  saw,  that  a  large  object  loomed 
up  before  them.  It  was  the  building  they  sought. 
The  Shawnee  changed  his  course  and  turned  the 
corner,  while  Paul  and  Marie  kept  close  at  his  heels. 

A  faint  light  streamed  from  the  open  doorway  of 
the  lodge.  Silverheels  stopped  and  listened  intently 
for  several  seconds.  Then  he  said  in  a  voice  that 
was  scarcely  audible: 

"  Move  not.  The  Wyandot  is  awake.  He  must 
die!" 


IN  THE  DAYS  OP  ST.  CLA1R  375 

The  Shawnee  glided  silently  toward  the  door  of 
the  lodge.  Stopping  just  without  the  circle  of  light, 
he  imitated  the  rasping  notes  of  the  katydid.  The 
Indian  on  guard  sprang  to  his  feet  and,  with  a  grunt 
of  surprise,  rushed  to  the  door.  One  moment  he 
stood  peering  into  the  outer  darkness.  The  next  he 
sank  to  the  ground,  a  corpse,  with  Silverheels'  hunt- 
ing-knife buried  in  his  heart. 

Marie  nestled  closer  to  her  lover's  side;  and  he 
felt  her  shudder. 

Silverheels  leaped  over  the  body  of  the  dead  Wy- 
andot  and  rushed  to  the  negro.  Gumbo  had  been 
sleeping  and  had  heard  nothing.  He  looked  up  in 
wide-eyed  wonder  as  the  Shawnee  bent  above  him, 
knife  in  hand.  Suddenly  aroused  'from  a  sound 
sleep,  the  sight  of  the  Indian  with  a  bloody  knife 
filled  the  poor  darky  with  alarm.  He  was  on  the 
point  of  uttering  a  piercing  yell,  when  Silverheels 
deftly  clapped  his  hand  over  the  frightened  fellow's 
mouth,  and  grunted : 

"Ugh!    Big  fool!" 

"  Am  dat  you,  Silberheels  ?  "  was  the  question  the 
black  blubbered  beneath  the  other's  hand. 

"  Ugh !  "  again  grunted  the  red  man,  in  a  low 
tone. 

"  Whar  am  Marse  Paul  ?  " 

The  Shawnee  removed  his  hand  from  the  negro's 
mouth  and  quickly  cut  the  thongs,  saying  as  he  did 
so: 

"  White  Eagle  and  the  blue-eyed  maiden  are  near. 


376  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

Hasten  —  come.  The  Delawares  and  Wyandots 
have  keen  eyes  and  ears.  They  may  be  upon  us 
soon." 

Gumbo  straggled  to  his  feet,  and  a  pleased  grin 
overspread  his  ebony  features  when  he  found  he  was 
able  to  walk.  He  started  to  follow  his  deliverer 
from  the  lodge,  but  stopped  abruptly  and  inquired : 

"  Whar's  dat  Wyandock  red  debil?  " 

"  In  the  spirit-land  with  his  fathers,"  Silverheels 
replied  in  a  cautious  undertone. 

"  Mus'  ob  tooken  a  mighty  sudden  an'  diversi- 
fyin'  notion  ob  goin'  on  a  journey  all  to  once,"  the 
darky  muttered,  glancing  hurriedly  around  the 
room ;  "  fo'  he  was  settin'  right  dar  jes  a  minute  ago. 
Guess  dis  nigger '11  jes  take  de  Wyandock's  gun, 
kase  de  Injin  debils  has  done  gone  stole  ol'  Gum- 
bo's." 

He  secured  the  rifle  that  was  lying  by  the  fire  and 
took  the  powder-horn  and  bullet-pouch  from  a  peg 
upon  the  wall.  Then  he  accompanied  his  impatient 
rescuer,  to  Paul  and  Marie.  The  delighted  negro 
would  have  burst  into  shouts  of  ecstatic  joy,  had 
not  Paul  and  Silverheels  restrained  him. 

The  four  set  out  for  the  cave,  carefully  threading 
their  way  among  the  scattered  huts.  A  slight  breeze 
had  set  in  from  the  north.  It  blew  directly  down 
the  river,  tearing  the  fog  to  tatters  and  piling  it  in 
ragged  heaps  upon  the  projecting  crags  that  walled 
in  the  valley.  A  fine  drizzling  rain  still  continued ; 
but  the  dim  light  of  the  sky  filtered  through  the  rifts 


IN  THE  DAYS  OP  ST.  CLAIR  377 

in  the  thin  strata  of  clouds  and  faintly  illuminated 
the  scene.  Silverheels  was  leading-  the  way.  They 
had  nearly  reached  the  eastern  edge  of  the  village, 
when  the  Shawnee  dropped  upon  the  earth  and  sig- 
naled for  the  others  to  do  the  same.  A  bent  and 
muffled  figure  was  slowly  approaching  from  the 
Delaware  chieftain's  lodge  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
camp. 

"  Bitter  Water !  "  Silverheels  muttered  to  him- 
self. 

The  aged  squaw  came  toward  them,  mumbling  in- 
articulately. She  did  not  become  aware  of  their 
presence  until  she  almost  stumbled  over  the  form 
of  Gumbo,  who  lay  directly  in  her  path.  She  stag- 
gered back  a  step  or  two;  and,  as  she  did  so,  the 
Shawnee  leaped  upon  her  and  essayed  to  catch  her 
by  the  throat.  Ere  he  could  do  so,  however,  she 
threw  back  her  head  and  uttered  the  war-whoop  of 
the  Delawares.  Her  voice  was  weak  and  cracked, 
but  of  sufficient  vigor  and  capacity  to  reach  the 
nearby  cabins.  Silverheels  bore  her  to  the  ground 
and  choked  her  into  insensibility ;  but  it  was  too  late. 
The  mischief  had  been  done. 

"  To  the  cavern  —  hasten !  "  he  cried,  springing 
erect  and  starting  off  at  a  rapid  pace. 

Paul  and  Gumbo  assisted  Marie  and  attempted 
to  keep  close  to  the  fleet-footed  red  man.  Bitter 
Water's  yell  was  answered  from  several  points,  and 
these  cries  of  alarm  brought  forth  others.  They  in- 
creased in  number  and  swelled  in  volume,  until  the 


378  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

village  seemed  alive  with  shouting,  yelling  demons. 
Torches  flared  and  blazed  ;  dogs  barked ;  dark  forms 
flitted  here  and  there ;  and  pandemonium  reigned. 

"  Hasten !  "  Silverheels  shouted,  slackening  his 
speed  for  the  others  to  come  up  with  him. 

"  On !  "  Paul  panted  as  he  and  Gumbo  almost  lift- 
ed Marie  from  her  feet  in  their  efforts  to  aid  her. 

"  I  doesn't  like  dis  pr'misc'ous  way  ob  runnin' 
off  from  de  red  debils  —  I  doesn't,"  the  negro  man- 
aged to  say  between  breaths.  "  It's  entirely  too  hard 
on  de  resp'ration  ob  de  breaf !  " 

As  the  darky  ceased  speaking,  several  shadowy 
figures  shot  swiftly  athwart  the  path  of  the  fleeing 
party,  and  disappeared  as  quickly  and  completely 
as  though  the  earth  had  yawned  and  swallowed 
them.  The  Shawnee  came  to  an  abrupt  halt  and 
ejaculated : 

"  The  Delaware  and  Wyandot  squaws  have  sur- 
rounded us ;  we  must  fight !  " 

"  If  we's  gwine  to  hab  a  squirmish,  I'll  git  dis 
Wyandock  gun  ready  to  do  some  talkin',"  murmured 
the  darky,  as,  with  the  palm  of  his  hand,  he  ham- 
mered the  breech  of  the  rifle  to  prime  it.  "  Doesn't 
know  who'll  be  in  de  mos'  dangerous  pr'dicament 
—  I  doesn't  —  de  Injin  debil  dat  gits  shot  at,  'r  de 
nigger  dat  does  de  shootiri.  'Spects  I'll  git  knock- 
ed clean  outen  de  kentry  wid  de  ol'  blunderbuss  — 
I  does  —  " 

"  Listen !  "  Marie  cried,  panting  with  exertion  and 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  379 

alarm.  "  They're  closing  in  behind  us ;  they  are 
drawing  nearer.  What  shall  we  do?" 

"  If  it  were  not  for  you,  dear  one,"  Paul  answered 
in  a  low  and  tender  tone,  "  I  should  not  care  so 
much." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  slowly  and  sadly,  "  if  I  were  not 
with  you,  possibly  you  could  escape." 

"  If  we  must  die,  at  least  we  shall  die  together!  " 
he  returned,  stooping  and  kissing  her.  Then,  turn- 
ing toward  Silverheels  who  stood,  leaning  upon  his 
rifle  as  though  he  were  stolidly  indifferent  to  the 
gravity  of  the  situation,  the  young  Englishman 
asked  hurriedly : 

"  My  red  brother,  what's  to  be  done?  " 

The  Indians  had  ceased  their  shrill  war-whoops 
and  cries  of  alarm.  They  had  located  the  party  and 
surrounded  them,  at  a  safe  distance.  Low  signal 
calls  and  stealthy  footsteps  could  be  heard  as  they 
gradually  drew  nearer  to  the  little  band  of  fugitives. 
Silverheels  did  not  answer  Paul's  question  at  once. 
When  he  did  so,  he  said : 

"  Our  steps  have  been  too  slow.  The  nimble- 
footed  Delawares  and  Wyandots  have  surrounded 
us.  If  we  stay  here,  we  accept  captivity  or  death ; 
if  we  attempt  to  escape,  we  must  fight.  The  braves 
are  drawing  closer.  If  we  would  escape,  our  way 
lies  there  — and  death  lurks  in  the  darkness  sur- 
rounding the  path." 

As  he  spoke  the  last  sentence,  he  pointed  toward 
the  entrance  of  the  ravine  a  hundred  yards  away. 


380  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

"  Death  is  preferable  to  captivity !  "  Graydon  said. 
"  Let's  cut  our  way  through  to  the  cave.  Once 
there,  if  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst,  we  can  at 
least  sell  our  lives  dearly.  Lead  on,  my  red  brother, 
we  can  but  die  in  the  attempt !  " 

Silverheels  looked  to  the  priming  of  his  rifle  and 
strode  forward.  Gumbo  and  Paul  walked  with  Ma- 
rie, carrying  their  guns  ready  for  instant  use.  They 
had  gone  but  a  short  distance  when  a  half  dozen 
warriors  rose  from  the  earth.  Quick  as  a  flash,  the 
Shawnee  threw  his  gun  to  his  shoulder  and  fired. 
Scarcely  had  the  flame  of  the  discharge  expired,  ere 
two  other  reports,  following  in  quick  succession,  told 
that  Paul  and  the  darky  had  followed  their  red 
friend's  example.  The  result  was  magical  and  in- 
stantaneous. Two  Indians  dropped  dead  in  their 
tracks  and  a  third  lay  moaning  upon  the  ground. 
A  chorus  of  hellish  yells  broke  loose  at  all  points  of 
the  compass;  and  the  pattering  of  moccasined  feet 
sounded  like  the  rush  of  a  stream.  But  over  it  all 
sounded  the  war-whoop  of  Silverheels,  as  he  clubbed 
his  rifle  and  rushed  upon  the  remaining  braves  in  his 
path. 

"  The  Shawnee !  The  Shawnee !  "  cried  the  Dela- 
wares  and  Wyandots,  as  with  howls  of  rage  and  hate 
they  rushed  to  the  aid  of  their  companions. 

"  To  the  ravine !  "  shouted  the  Shawnee,  swinging 
his  long  rifle  above  his  head,  and  dealing  terrific 
blows  right  and  left. 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  381 

Gumbo  was  at  Silverheels'  side ;  and  as  he  fought 
he  bellowed  at  the  top  of  his  voice : 

"  Gwine  to  make  dis  nigger  run  de  gantelope,  is 
you?  Take  dat  — an'  dat!  'Spect  dat  las'  one  '11 
hab  a  monst'ous  headache  in  de  mornin' !  Stan' 
back  dar,  you  Injin  debils!  Cl'ar  de  track  dar! 
Wat  you  crowdin'  fo'?  Whoopee  1  Dis  chile's 
been  in  a  squirmish  befo' !  " 

Paul  had  dropped  his  gun  after  discharging  it; 
and  now,  with  his  left  arm  around  Marie,  he 
clutched  his  long,  keen  hunting-knife  in  his  right 
hand,  and  carved  at  the  human  wall  that  hemmed 
them  in.  The  darkness  and  the  number  of  the  foe 
worked  to  the  disadvantage  of  the  Indians  them- 
selves. They  could  not  use  their  arms  for  fear  of 
injuring  one  another;  and  the  blows  that  they  struck 
were  oftener  received  by  their  fellows  than  by  the 
fugitives.  The  warriors  in  front  of  Graydon  and  his 
companions  fell  back  before  the  desperate  attack ; 
and  the  throng  surging  behind  carried  the  com- 
batants, every  moment,  nearer  the  mouth  of  the 
ravine.  At  last  Paul  found  himself  a  little  in 
advance  of  his  friends  and  at  the  foot  of  the  steep 
and  rocky  path.  Striking  down  an  Indian  that  op- 
posed his  way,  he  caught  the  girl  in  his  arms  and 
sprang  up  the  dangerous  ascent.  Reaching  the  floor 
of  the  ravine  in  safety,  he  dropped  his  precious  bur- 
den and  prepared  to  hold  the  pass.  But,  to  his  sur- 
prise, no  enemy  came. 

He  heard  the  uproar  below,  and  knew  Silverheels 


382  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

and  Gumbo  were  still  fighting  desperately.  He  was 
wounded  and  bleeding  in  a  half  dozen  places,  and  his 
muscles  ached ;  but  at  the  sounds  of  combat  his  nos- 
trils dilated  and  his  breath  came  in  gasps.  The  bull- 
dog pugnacity  of  the  English  race  was  throbbing  in 
his  arteries. 

"  What  shall  I  do,"  he  panted,  "  leave  her  here 
and  go  to  their  aid,  or  stay  to  guard  her  ?  " 

Marie  overheard,  and  whispered  the  one  word — • 
"Go!" 

Then  she  quietly  seated  herself  upon  the  damp 
rock  and  pointed  toward  the  steep  path.  Paul 
sprang  down  the  declivity  and  again  rushed  into  the 
thick  of  the  fight.  The  surging  Indians  had  carried 
his  comrades  several  yards  backward,  toward  the 
village.  As  he  ran  to  join  them,  his  foot  struck  an 
object  that  lay  in  his  path.  He  stooped  and  picked 
up  his  own  rifle.  The  recovery  of  his  trusty 
weapon  renewed  his  courage. 

"  This  way !  "  he  shouted  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 
"  This  way !  To  the  ravine  —  Silverheels !  Gum- 
bo!" 

They  answered  his  calls  and  fought  their  way 
toward  him.  Soon  the  three  were  together;  and, 
back  to  back,  were  struggling  to  disengage  them- 
selves from  the  red  throng  that  thirsted  for  their 
blood. 

"  Whar's  de  purty  little  gal  ?  "  cried  the  negro, 
grave  concern  in  his  voice. 

"  Safe  —  safe !  "    Paul    cried    in    ringing   tones. 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  383 

At  that  moment  his  feet  again  struck  the  path  lead- 
ing to  the  ravine,  and  he  shouted  triumphantly : 

"  Quick !  up  there,  Gumbo !  Follow,  Silver- 
heels  ! " 

Our  three  friends  scrambled  up  the  ascent  and 
reached  the  floor  of  the  ravine.  The  Shawnee  plant- 
ed himself  at  the  head  of  the  steep  path,  and  still 
swinging  his  death-dealing  rifle,  uttered  a  war- 
whoop  that  echoed  throughout  the  glen.  A  number 
of  Indians  essayed  to  ascend,  but  blows  from 
the  butt  of  his  gun  dropped  them  into  the  depths 
below.  The  others,  seized  with  panic,  tumbled  over 
each  other  in  their  attempt  to  escape.  With  fren- 
zied howls  of  baffled  rage,  they  collected  at  the  foot 
of  the  path. 

"  To  the  cavern  ere  the  squaws  recover  their  cour- 
age !  "  Silverheels  whispered  as  he  led  the  way. 

A  few  minutes  later  they  found  themselves  in  the 
large  room  of  the  cavern,  and  there  began  an  ex- 
amination of  their  wounds.  Marie  had  received  no 
injury  except  a  few  bruises,  but  the  three  men  had 
not  escaped  so  luckily.  Paul  had  a  deep  knife-thrust 
in  his  shoulder  that  bled  profusely ;  Gumbo,  a  lacer- 
ated wound  of  the  scalp ;  and  Silverheels,  a  number 
of  tomahawk-cuts  about  the  back  and  head.  In  addi- 
tion, all  were  suffering  from  the  effect  of  their  ex- 
traordinary exertions. 

After  rekindling  the  fire  and  dressing  their 
wounds  as  well  as  they  could  under  the  circum- 
stances, they  disposed  themselves  to  rest  and  sleep. 


384  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

Paul  and  the  negro  threw  themselves  down  near  the 
fire ;  but  the  Shawnee  chose  a  position  at  the  inner 
end  of  the  winding  passage,  where  he  could  hear  the 
slightest  noise  made  by  anyone  trying  to  enter  their 
retreat. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 


As  MURKY  dawn  —  like  one  who  had  spent  the 
night  in  debauchery  —  came  staggering  into 
the  valley  of  the  Tuscarawas,  Silverheels  arose  from 
his  hard  bed  and  stretched  his  stiffened  limbs  with  a 
yawn  of  pain  and  unrest.  The  others  were  still 
sleeping  the  sleep  of  utter  exhaustion.  Without  dis- 
turbing them,  the  Shawnee  left  the  cavern.  He 
was  gone  but  a  few  minutes.  When  he  returned,  he 
sauntered  to  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  looking  down 
upon  the  Indian  village,  and  stood  there  for  some 
time,  apparently  lost  in  deep  thought.  Then  he  re- 
traced his  steps  and,  coming  close  to  Paul,  stooped 
and  touched  his  white  friend  upon  the  shoulder. 
The  latter  awoke  with  a  start  and  sprang  erect. 

"What  is  it,  my  red  brother?"  he  asked. 

"  Within  the  cave  it  is  night ;  but  without  the 
daylight  shines,"  was  the  quiet  reply. 

"  Is  it  morning?" 

"  Ugh ! " 

"  And  what  of  our  enemies  ?  " 

"  They  are  astir  —  they  are  searching  for  us.  The 
village  contains  only  the  women  and  children ;  the 
warriors  are  abroad.  They  fill  the  ravine ;  and  their 
25  (385) 


386  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

voices  are  heard  on  the  hilltop  over  us.  They  know 
we  are  not  far  away.  They  are  smelling  out  our 
trail." 

"  Do  you  think  they  will  find  our  hiding  place?  " 
Paul  asked  in  concern. 

"  Ugh !  they  are  hounds.  They  are  keen  of 
scent." 

"  Then  we  must  prepare  to  repel  them.  They 
must  not  gain  admittance  to  the  cave." 

This  was  much  easier  to  say  than  to  do.  Our 
three  friends  were  sore  and  weak;  and  their  stock 
of  ammunition  was  running  low.  Besides,  there 
were  but  three  of  them.  There  were  scores  of  their 
enemies. 

Paul  and  his  companions  cooked  and  ate  a  scanty 
breakfast  of  venison,  washed  it  down  with  copious 
draughts  of  water  procured  from  pools  in  the  dark 
and  winding  passage ;  and  anxiously  awaited  the 
next  move  on  the  part  of  their  enemies.  It  was 
not  long  in  coming.  A  series  of  triumphant  yells, 
floating  in  through  the  damp  fissure  in  the  rocks, 
told  that  the  Indians  had  discovered  the  entrance  to 
the  cavern. 

"  They  come !  "  Graydon  cried,  excitedly.  "  Let 
us  meet  them  at  the  outer  end  of  the  passage  and 
beat  them  back." 

"  Wait,"  the  Shawnee  said,  composedly. 

The  uproar  in  the  ravine  continued.  Gumbo  ner- 
vously fingered  his  rifle  and  rolled  his  big  eyes. 
Marie  clung  to  Paul  in  terror.  He  soothed  her 
fears  and  coaxed  her  to  seat  herself  behind  a  pro- 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R  387 

jecting  point  of  rock,  out  of  the  way  of  stray  bul- 
lets. Then  he  turned  upon  Silverheels  and  sharply 
demanded : 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  standing  here  idle?  They 
will  be  upon  us  ere  we  can  strike  a  blow." 

The  Shawnee  replied  contemptuously :  "  White 
Eagle  does  not  know  the  cowardly  Delaware  and 
Wyandot  squaws.  They  will  not  creep  into  the  den 
of  the  gray  wolf,  until  he  is  tamed  by  fire  and 
smoke." 

"  They  will  attempt  to  drive  us  out?  " 

"Ugh!" 

"How?" 

"  As  they  force  the  gray  wolf  from  his  lair  —  by 
flame  and  smoke." 

"  But  they  can't  succeed  ;  there  are  too  many  open- 
ings to  the  cavern,"  Paul  cried  exultingly. 

Silverheels  nodded  and  replied :  "  White  Eagle  is 
brave  and  wise.  He  speaks  words  of  truth.  The 
cave  is  large  and  the  outlets  for  smoke  are  many. 
The  Delawares  and  Wyandots  cannot  smoke  us 
out." 

The  crackle  and  roar  of  leaping  flames  came  to 
their  ears;  and  the  blue-black  smoke  of  burning 
brush  and  leaves  rolled  into  the  cave,  in  dense  vol- 
umes. It  circled  and  eddied  around  and  through 
the  great  room,  and  drove  the  occupants  nearer  and 
nearer  to  the  outlet  facing  the  valley.  It  arose  to 
the  vaulted  roof  and  found  its  way  through  the 
manv  cracks  and  crevices  in  the  shale-rock.  It 


388  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

poured  out  at  the  opening,  where  Paul  and  his  com- 
panions stood,  but  not  in  sufficient  volume  to  seri- 
ously inconvenience  them.  One  moment  they  were 
almost  blinded  and  smothered  by  it.  The  next  mo- 
ment the  fresh  air  drove  it  back ;  and  they  breathed 
freely. 

Hidden  by  the  fringe  of  bushes,  they  stood  upon 
the  narrow  shelf  of  stone  and  peeped  down  upon  the 
scene  spread  out  beneath  them.  Suddenly,  Silver- 
heels  uttered  a  guttural  exclamation  of  surprise  and 
pointed  to  the  edge  of  the  forest  below  the  village. 
The  others  looked  in  the  direction  indicated,  and 
observed  a  squad  of  warriors  emerging  from  the 
woods  and  hurrying  toward  the  council  lodge  that 
stood  near  the  bank  of  the  river.  They  conducted  a 
white  prisoner,  who  walked  with  bowed  head.  His 
captives  hurried  him  forward,  buffeting  him  with 
taunts  and  jeers.  Paul  caught  his  breath  sharply, 
rubbed  his  eyes  and  looked  again. 

"  If  de  Injin  debils  ain't  done  gone  tooken  dat 
runnygatin'  Red  Wallace  captive,"  Gumbo  ejacu- 
lated explosively,  "  den  dis  nigger's  stone  blind  — 
dat's  all ! " 

"  It's  the  outlaw !  "  Marie  gasped.  "  What  can  it 
mean  ?  " 

"  He  has  proven  traitor  to  his  Indian  allies ;  he 
has  tried  to  slip  away  from  them,  and  they  have 
caught  him,"  Paul  said.  "  Is  it  not  so,  my  red 
brother?" 

"  Ugh  !  "     Silverheels  grunted,  "  the  Red  Fox  is 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  389 

sly !  he  would  slip  away  without  paying-  the  gold  he 
promised.  Bitter  Water  last  night  informed  the 
Delaware  chieftain  of  what  she  had  heard  Red  Fox 
say  to  the  blue-eyed  maiden.  She  was  at  the  chief- 
tain's lodge  when  we  bore  away  the  maiden.  The 
braves  laid  a  trap  for  the  Red  Fox.  He  sought  to 
steal  away  while  the  warriors  were  absent.  Ugh! 
he  is  a  fool.  He  will  die  at  the  stake !  " 

"  We  couldn't  aid  him  if  we  would,"  Paul  re- 
marked musingly ;  "  and  I  don't  know  that  I  should 
save  him,  if  I  had  the  opportunity.  It  is  a  fit  end 
for  him.  He  showed  no  mercy.  And  yet  —  " 

The  redmen,  bearing  the  prisoner,  had  nearly 
reached  the  council  lodge,  when  they  came  to  a  stop, 
and,  gesticulating,  pointed  to  the  spot  where  the 
four  fugitives  stood.  The  distance  was  about  two 
hundred  yards ;  and  the  movements  of  the  Indians 
were  distinctly  visible.  Paul  ceased  speaking  and 
drew  farther  into  the  shadow  of  the  cavern.  Gum- 
bo and  Marie  followed  his  example ;  but  the  Shaw- 
nee  stolidly  maintained  his  position  upon  the  outer- 
most edge  of  the  shelf  of  rock. 

"  Have  they  discovered  us,  that  they  gaze  so 
earnestly  in  this  direction?"  the  young  man  in- 
quired. 

Silverheeels  slowly  shook  his  head. 

"  The  Delaware  braves  see  the  smoke  issuing 
from  the  mouth  of  our  hiding  place.  It  tells  them 
they  cannot  smoke  us  out.  See !  They  send  a  mes- 
senger to  tell  those  in  the  ravine  of  their  discovery. 


390  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

White  Eagle,  we  must  prepare  to  defend  ourselves. 
The  cavern  will  soon  swarm  with  painted  warriors." 

Realizing  the  truth  of  the  Indian's  words,  Paul 
requested  him  to  assume  the  leadership  and  to  di- 
rect what  should  be  done  to  make  their  refuge  as 
impregnable  as  possible.  Presently  the  cave  began 
to  clear  of  smoke,  thus  showing  that  their  enemies 
had  withdrawn  the  fire  and  were  preparing  to  enter. 
At  the  Shawnee's  suggestion,  the  three  men  erected 
a  barrier  of  large  stones  across  the  middle  of  the 
black  and  crooked  entrance,  and  piled  smaller 
stones  near  at  hand,  to  be  used  in  repelling  their  as- 
sailants. When  this  was  done,  they  left  Marie  in 
the  large  and  dry  apartment,  and  stationed  them- 
selves behind  the  wall.  Paul  was  the  last  to  leave 
his  sweetheart. 

"  Be  not  cast  down,  dear  one,"  he  said.  "  All 
chance  of  escape  isn't  yet  gone.  No  doubt  we  shall 
"be  able  to  beat  them  back.  The  outlaw  isn't  here 
to  urge  them  on;  and  they  will  not  relish  a  hand- 
to-hand  encounter  in  the  dark  and  narrow  passage. 
Pray  that  God  may  lend  us  strength  and  courage !  " 

"  I  shall  pray  for  you,  my  Paul,"  she  answered, 
clinging  to  his  hand ;  "  and  God  will  hear  my  pray- 
er. He  will  not  desert  us  in  our  hour  of  greatest 
need.  Go  —  and  may  He  help  us !  " 

An  hour  passed;  and  the  three  men,  crouched 
upon  the  damp  rock-floor,  heard  or  saw  no  signs 
of  their  foes.  Silverheels  was  on  the  point  of  climb- 
ing over  the  rocky  obstruction  and  creeping  to  the 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  391 

outer  end  of  the  corridor,  to  ascertain  the  designs 
of  the  Indians,  when  a  flaming  torch  bobbed  around 
a  sharp  turn,  revealing  the  forms  of  warriors  ad- 
vancing cautiously  along  the  passage. 

"  Dar  dey  comes !  "  whispered  Gumbo,  "  An' 
dey's  negotiatin'  a  torch  along  wid  'em,  jes  to  show 
us  whar  dey  is.  Dey's  de  mos'  obligin'  an  omniv- 
erous  red  debils  —  " 

He  had  leveled  his  rifle  and  had  his  finger  on  the 
trigger,  when  Silverheels  caught  his  arm  and  said: 

"Wait!" 

On  came  the  leader  of  the  party,  holding  the 
torch  aloft,  and  peering  into  every  shadowy  nook 
and  cranny,  while  his  companions  crowded  close 
upon  his  heels.  They  were  but  a  few  yards  distant. 

"Now!" 

It  was  Silverheels  who  spoke.  The  three  rifles 
cracked  simultaneously;  and  the  effect  of  the  ex- 
plosion was  something  terrific.  The  torch  carried 
by  the  Indians  was  extinguished.  The  pent  air 
rushed  this  way  and  that,  bits  of  stone  and  shale 
dropped  from  the  walls  and  roof ;  and  the  deafening 
report  rolled  and  reverberated  along  the  narrow, 
winding  way,  like  the  crash  of  heavy  thunder.  The 
yells,  groans,  and  hurrying  footsteps  of  the  retreat- 
ing Indians  could  be  heard.  Then  all  was  silence. 

"  That  was  easily  done ! "  Paul  cried,  trium- 
phantly. 

"  Done  skeered  de  In] in  debils  dean  outen  dnr 
skins !  "  the  negro  chuckled,  slapping  his  thigh  and 


392  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

dancing  around  in  the  darkness.  "  I  doesn't  s'pose 
dey'll  eber  come  back  some  mo' ;  dey  doesn't  like  de 
deception  we  gib  'em." 

Silverheels  said  nothing,  but  went  on  reloading 
his  gun  as  fast  as  he  could.  Noting  this,  Paul  and 
Gumbo  followed  his  example. 

"  Will  they  come  again  ?  "  the  young  Englishman 
inquired. 

"  Ugh !  The  Dela wares  and  Wyandots  thirst  for 
blood  ;  they  will  come  again  and  in  greater  numbers. 
Hist!" 

Silverheels'  companions  scarcely  breathed,  they 
listened  so  intently ;  but  no  sound  except  the  soft 
drip  of  water  came  to  their  ears. 

"  I  hear  nothing,"  Graydon  whispered,  with  his 
face  close  to  the  Shawnee's. 

"  They  come ;  they  wriggle  forward  like  serpents, 
in  the  thick  blackness,"  was  breathed  into  the  young 
man's  ear. 

"  Shall  I  have  time  to  go  to  Marie,  ere  they  are 
upon  us  ?  "  Paul  asked  eagerly. 

"  Hear  you  not  their  quick  breathing?  Already 
they  are  upon  us.  Fire !  " 

Again  the  three  rifles  belched  flame;  and  again 
the  walls  of  the  cavern  vibrated  with  the  force  of  the 
explosion.  But  the  effect  produced  upon  the  In- 
dians was  far  different  from  that  before.  Instead  of 
retreating,  they  arose,  yelling  and  firing,  and  rushed 
upon  the  barricade.  The  cave  resounded  with  the 
clash  and  shock  of  conflict.  Paul  and  his  comrades 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  393 

dropped  their  rifles  and  hurled  stones  upon  the 
swarming  red  men,  as  they  came  on,  but  could  not 
check  their  impetuous  onslaught.  In  the  darkness 
neither  friend  nor  foe  was  distinguishable.  The 
warriors  reached  the  barricade  and  attempted  to 
scale  it.  The  trio  behind  it  again  seized  their  guns 
and  rained  blow  after  blow  upon  the  heads  of  their 
assailants.  High  above  all  other  sounds,  rose  the 
war-whoop  of  the  Shawnee  and  the  stentorian  bel- 
low of  the  darky.  Paul  fought  silently  and  with 
grim  determination.  The  Indians  in  the  rear  crowd- 
ed upon  those  in  front,  and  by  mere  weight  of  num- 
bers threatened  to  carry  the  barricade.  Time  after 
time,  stalwart  braves  gained  the  top  of  the  wall,  only 
to  receive  death  wounds  and  fall  back  among  their 
companions,  or  topple  over  upon  the  men  they 
sought  to  slay.  A  blow  upon  the  head  dropped  Paul 
senseless  and  bleeding,  upon  the  floor.  But  Silver- 
heels  and  Gumbo  continued  to  fight  like  fiends.  Lit- 
tle by  little  their  strength  was  leaving  them;  soon 
they  must  succumb  to  superior  numbers.  Just  at  the 
moment  when  the  darky's  gun  was  wrested  from  his 
grasp,  there  came  a  diversion  in  favor  of  the  two 
hard-pressed  men. 

Marie  was  crouched  in  an  obscure  corner  of  the 
large  room  of  the  cave,  and  pressing  her  fingers  into 
her  ears  to  shut  out  the  noise  of  the  conflict.  In 
spite  of  her  efforts,  she  heard  the  shouts,  the  blows 
and  groans,  and  the  ring  of  steel  on  steel,  as  gun- 
barrels,  knives  and  tomahawks  met  and  clashed  in 


394  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

the  narrow  corridor.  At  last  —  nearly  crazed  by 
fear,  and  hardly  knowing  what  she  did  —  she 
snatched  a  blazing  torch  from  the  fire  and  holding 
it  aloft,  rushed  toward  the  scene  of  combat.  There 
a  horrifying  spectacle  was  revealed  to  her,  by  the 
smoky  light  of  the  torch  she  carried.  The  rough 
rock-walls  were  bespattered  with  blood  and  brains, 
and  the  floor  was  strewn  with  the  bodies  of  dead 
and  wounded  Indians.  Among  the  fallen  she  saw 
the  form  of  her  lover.  Gumbo  and  Silverheels  were 
battling  desperately,  covered  with  blood  from  the 
wounds  they  had  received.  The  barricade  was 
broken  down;  and  they,  in  the  midst  of  struggling, 
yelling  Indians. 

Like  the  phantasm  of  a  nightmare,  all  this  flashed 
upon  her  much  more  quickly  than  it  takes  to  tell  it. 
Then  she  saw  the  negro  borne  to  the  floor,  and  a 
knife  raised  to  kill  him.  With  a  scream  of  frenzy, 
the  girl  leaped  forward  and  thrust  the  torch  into  the 
mocking  face  of  the  warrior  bending  over  her  black 
friend.  The  Indian's  plaited  locks,  saturated  with 
bear's  grease,  caught  fire  and  burned  fiercely.  With 
a  scream  of  fright  and  pain,  he  struggled  to  his  feet ; 
and,  like  a  blazing  meteor,  shot  down  the  corri- 
dor, spreading  consternation  and  confusion  in  his 
course.  In  the  crowd,  he  communicated  the  flames 
to  the  hair  and  garments  of  several  other  mem- 
bers of  the  band.  Superstitious  terror  seized  them, 
for  but  one  or  two  had  seen  Marie's  act;  and  with 
howls  of  pain  and  fear  they  beat  a  hasty  retreat 


The  girl  leaped  forward  and  thrust  thi-  torch  into  the 
mocking  face  of  the  wanior 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  395 

toward  the  open  air,  leaving  their  dead  and  wounded 
behind  them.  The  thoughtless  act  of  the  French 
girl  had  saved  her  friends  for  the  time  being  at 
least. 

A  half  hour  later,  the  Shawnee  and  his  compan- 
ions were  reassembled  around  the  fire  in  the  cavern. 
Marie,  seated  upon  the  stone  floor,  held  Paul's  head 
in  her  lap,  while  Silverheels  bathed  the  unconscious 
man's  face  and  temples  in  cold  water  brought  from 
the  damp  corridor.  Gumbo,  with  his  broken  arm  in 
a  sling  made  of  his  leathern  belt,  stood  looking  down 
upon  his  white  friend  and  silently  wiping  the  trick- 
ling blood  and  tears  from  his  own  black  face.  The 
Shawnee's  head,  shoulders,  and  arms  were  hacked 
and  bruised  in  a  frightful  manner ;  but  he  made  no 
complaint.  Without  manifesting  a  twinge  or  grim- 
ace of  pain,  he  went  on  administering  to  the  wants 
of  the  others.  Marie  rocked  herself  to  and  fro  as 
she  bathed  and  caressed  Paul's  cut  and  blackened 
face,  and  shuddered  as  the  groans  of  the  wounded 
Indians  in  the  passage  came  to  her  ears. 

"Poor  Marse  Paul  —  my  dear,  good  marster!" 
Gumbo  murmured.  "  Is  he  gwine  to  die,  Silber- 
heels?" 

As  if  in  answer,  Paul  slowly  opened  his  eyes, 
sighed  deeply  and  attempted  to  arise. 

"  Thank  God,  he  lives !  "  Marie  cried. 

"  Ugh,  he  lives !  "  grunted  the  Shawnee.  Then  to 
Paul :  "  Lie  still ;  White  Eagle  is  weak  and  faint." 


396  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

With  another  deep-drawn  sigh,  the  Englishman 
turned  his  face  toward  Marie  and  asked  faintly : 

"You're  unhurt?" 

"  I'm  safe  and  sound,  dear,"  she  whispered. 
"  Don't  worry." 

"  And  Gumbo  and  Silverheels?  " 

"  They  are  both  here." 

The  darky  was  crying  for  joy  as  he  blubbered: 

"  I's  all  right,  Marse  Paul  —  jes  got  a  broke  arm, 
an'  a  few  cuts,  an'  scratches,  an'  strains,  an'  bruises, 
an'  a  few  t'ings  ob  dat  kind.  I's  gittin'  'long  firs' 
rate,  Marse  Paul !  " 

"  My  red  brother  —  "  And  Paul  feebly  stretched 
forth  his  hand  — "  you  are  still  alive,  but  you  are 
badly  injured." 

The  Indian  took  the  proffered  hand  as  he  replied : 
"  Ugh !  Silverheels  is  alive ;  the  knives  of  the  Dela- 
wares  and  Wyandots  failed  to  find  his  heart.  The 
Shawnee  will  live  to  send  his  enemies  to  the  spirit- 
land!" 

"  And  —  and  the  battle  —  you  beat  them  off  ?  " 

"  Ugh !  They  are  gone.  But  their  dead  and  dy- 
ing strew  the  floor  of  the  cave." 

"  And  will  they  renew  the  attack,  my  red 
brother?  "  Paul  asked  in  a  stronger  voice. 

The  semblance  of  a  grim  smile  twitched  the  cor- 
ners of  the  Shawnee's  mouth. 

"  The  Delaware  and  Wyandot  braves  will  not  re- 
turn. They  will  not  again  seek  death  in  the  dark- 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R  397 

ness.  The  blue-eyed  maiden  taught  them  a  new 
lesson  they  will  not  soon  forget." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  Paul  said  with  a  show  of 
animation,  as  he  struggled  to  a  sitting  posture  and 
supported  his  dizzy  head  upon  his  hand. 

"  Let  the  blue-eyed  maiden  herself  explain,"  re- 
turned Silverheels,  turning  his  back  and  striding 
toward  the  mouth  of  the  cavern. 

Marie,  in  few  words,  told  her  lover  how  she  had 
dispersed  the  howling  pack  of  human  wolves. 
When  she  had  finished,  he  replied,  feelingly: 

"  My  brave  little  woman !  Surely  God  directed 
your  act!  Had  it  not  been  for  you,  not  one  of  us 
would  have  lived  to  tell  of  the  fight.  As  it  is,  we 
are  in  desperate  straits.  Should  the  Indians  again 
attack  us,  God  alone  knows  what  the  result  will  be, 
for  we  are  too  sorely  wounded  to  defend  ourselves 
against  such  odds.  Nor  are  we  in  better  condition  to 
withstand  a  siege ;  we  haven't  enough  meat  remain- 
ing to  last  a  day.  However,  I  don't  despair.  Your 
prayers  have  proved  of  avail.  God  is  with  us. 
Hark!  What's  that?" 

The  three  listened  intently  for  a  full  minute. 

"  Guess  you  didn't  hear  nuffin'  'tall,  Marse  Paul," 
Gumbo  remarked  at  last. 

"  But  I  did,"  Paul  insisted ;  and,  with  Marie's  aid, 
he  got  upon  his  feet  and  stood  trembling  by  her 
side. 

"  Mus'  ob  been  dem  hurt  Tnjins,"  the  darky  sug- 
gested. 


398  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

Gray  don  shook  his  head :  "  No,  it  sounded  like 
the  murmur  of  many  voices;  and!  I  think  it  came 
from  the  valley.  Where's  Silverheels  ?  " 

"  At  the  mouth  of  the  cavern,"  Marie  answered. 

"  There  it  is  again  —  and  it's  the  sound  of  voices," 
Paul  cried  excitedly.  "  Go,  Gumbo,  and  see  what  it 
means.'* 

When  the  negro  reached  the  shelf  of  rock  at  the 
outlet  looking  down  upon  the  valley,  he  found  Sil- 
verheels standing  like  a  carved  figure  of  stone,  upon 
the  outer  edge  of  the  projecting  ledge,  gazing  fix- 
edly toward  the  Indian  lodges.  A  great  stir  and 
tumult  was  going  on.  Indians  were  pouring  down 
from  the  ravine  and  hillside  and  gathering  in  circles 
around  a  group  of  horsemen.  The  strangers  were 
wiry,  muscular,  dark-complexioned  men,  dressed  in 
the  motley  but  picturesque  garb  peculiar  to  the  fur- 
traders  and  adventurers  of  the  forest  wilds.  There 
were  twelve  of  them;  and,  besides  the  horses  they 
bestrode,  they  had  with  them  a  number  of  pack- 
horses. 

The  Delawares  and  Wyandots  were  much  excited. 
They  talked  and  gesticulated  wildly,  pointing  toward 
the  cave  and  the  ravine,  and  shaking  aloft  their 
arms  as  they  did  so.  The  leader  of  the  newcomers 
raised  his  hand  and  commanded  silence.  Then  he 
called  to  him  a  number  of  the  chiefs,  and,  dismount- 
ing, appeared  to  hold  a  consultation  with  them. 
Gumbo  saw  all  this  and  his  eyes  bulged  with  curi- 
osity and  excitement. 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  399 

"  Who  am  dem  folkses,  Silberheels  ?  "  he  asked  in 
eager  accents. 

But  the  Shawnee  did  not  deign  to  reply.  On  the 
contrary,  leaving  the  negro  staring  after  him,  he 
returned  to  Paul  and  Marie. 

"  Help  is  at  hand,"  he  said  abruptly. 

Incredulity  was  depicted  upon  the  young  English- 
man's countenance,  as  he  replied : 

"  Help  ?    I  don't  understand  you." 

"  Black  Jacques  is  in  the  village  of  the  redmen." 

"  And  who  is  Black  Jacques,  pray  ?  " 

"  A  Frenchman  —  a  trader  among  the  tribes.  He 
is  here  with  men  and  horses ;  he  comes  to  barter  for 
peltries." 

"  Will  he  interfere  in  our  behalf?  " 

"  Ugh !  He  is  a  friend  of  Silverheels ;  the  Shaw- 
nee  once  saved  his  life." 

At  that  moment  Gumbo  came  hurrying  toward 
them,  his  sable  face  shining  with  excitement. 

"  Dar's  a  man  on  horseback,  right  down  at  de  foot 
ob  de  cliff,"  he  cried ;  "  an'  he's  gesticulatin'  a  white 
rag  on  a  ramrod,  an'  denouncin'  de  fack  dat  he 
wants  to  hoi'  a  parley  wid  some  ob  us!  Come 
quick,  Marse  Paul,  an'  see !  " 

As  rapidly  as  his  enfeebled  condition  would  per- 
mit, Paul,  supported  by  Marie  and  his  two  com- 
rades, hastened  toward  the  mouth  of  the  cave. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

HELLO!       Hello,  up  there!"  was  the  cry  that 
floated  up  from  the  valley. 

With  shaking  hands,  Graydon  parted  the  fringe 
of  bushes  upon  the  edge  of  the  shelf  of  rock,  and 
peered  down  upon  the  solitary  horseman  beneath. 

"  Hello !  "  the  stranger  shouted  in  a  louder  voice. 
His  face  upturned,  he  closely  scanned  the  opening  in 
the  cliff,  as  he  repeated  his  call.  Paul  saw  the  man 
was  alone.  Grasping  the  bushes  firmly  and  bending 
forward,  the  young  Englishman  cried: 

"  Who  are  you,  and  what  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  I  come  with  a  flag  of  truce.  The  Indians  desire 
to  remove  their  dead  and  wounded  from  the  cave. 
Will  you  permit  them  to  enter  and  bear  the  bodies 
away  ?  " 

"  What  assurance  have  we  that  the  savages  aren't 
seeking  an  opportunity  to  renew  the  attack  ?  " 

"  The  word  of  a  man  who  has  never  yet  deceived 
another,  no  matter  what  was  the  color  of  his  skin," 
returned  the  stranger.  He  spoke  English  well,  but 
with  a  foreign  accent. 

"  Wait  a  moment ;  I  must  consult  with  my  com- 
rades." 

Paul  withdrew  his  head,  and,  turning  to  Silver- 
heels,  said : 
(400) 


7JV  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  401 

"  You  heard  the  stranger's  request.  What  hav- 
you  to  say?  " 

The  Shawnee  was  watching  the  movements  of 
the  Indians  in  the  village  ;  and  he  did  not  remove  his 
eyes  from  them  as  he  answered: 

"  Black  Jacques  speaks  words  of  truth.  He  has 
not  a  split  tongue." 

"  You  know  him,"  Paul  said  eagerly ;  "  step  out 
here  and  speak  to  him." 

Silverheels,  still  looking  toward  the  village,  de- 
cidedly shook  his  head. 

"  You  will  not?  "  Paul  asked  in  surprise,  not  un- 
mixed with  irritation. 

"  No,"  was  the  unmoved  rejoinder. 

"Why?" 

"If  Black  Jacques  wants  to  see  the  Shawnee,  he 
will  ask  for  him,"  Silverheels  answered  proudly. 

"  Perhaps  he  doesn't  know  you  are  with  us." 

"  The  Delawares  and  Wyandots  have  told  him 
that  their  bitter  enemy  is  in  the  cave.  He  knows  the 
Shawnee  is  here.  Silverheels  has  ears  —  he  will 
answer  when  he  hears  his  name." 

With  an  impatient  gesture,  Paul  returned  to  his 
former  position  and  called  to  the  horseman  below : 

"  Tell  the  Delawares  and  Wyandots  they  may 
carry  off  their  dead  and  wounded,  if  you  and  your 
men  accompany  them." 

"  Very  well,"  the  stranger  answered ;  "  you  shall 
not  have  reason  to  regret  your  decision,  young 
26 


402  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

man.  Is  a  Shavvnee  Indian,  called  Silverheels,  with 
you?" 

"He  is." 

"  Tell  him  to  come  to  the  mouth  of  the  cave ; 
Black  Jacques  desires  to  speak  with  him." 

Paul  stepped  back  a  few  paces,  and  Silverheels 
took  his  place.  For  several  minutes  the  stranger 
conversed  with  him,  in  the  guttural  language  of  the 
Shawnee.  Then  Black  Jacques  wheeled  his  horse 
and  galloped  back  to  the  motley  assembly  in  the  cen- 
ter of  the  Indian  village;  and  Silverheels  and  his 
friends  re-entered  the  cavern. 

The  Shawnee  volunteered  no  information  of  what 
had  passed  between  him  and  the  stranger ;  but, 
stirring  up  the  fire,  unconcernedly,  commenced  to 
cook  their  midday  meal  of  venison.  A  few  minutes 
later,  Black  Jacques  and  two  of  his  men,  accompan- 
ied by  a  number  of  the  Indians,  entered  the  passage 
and  began  the  removal  of  the  dead  and  wounded 
savages.  Five  of  the  redmen  were  dead,  three  more 
were  in  a  dying  condition,  and  several  others  were 
so  seriously  wounded  that  they  could  not  get  away 
unaided.  While  his  men  and  the  Indians  were  en- 
gaged in  this  work  of  mercy,  Black  Jacques  found 
his  way  into  the  main  apartment  of  the  cave. 

He  was  a  middle-aged  man  of  medium  height  and 
weight,  with  strong,  active  limbs  and  erect  carriage. 
His  swarthy  face,  tanned  a  deeper  shade  by  exposure 
to  the  elements,  was  smooth-shaven,  wizened  and 
leathery.  His  raven-black  hair  —  without  a  trace 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R  403 

of  gray  in  it  —  rippled  down  upon  his  square  shoul- 
ders ;  and  his  beady  black  eyes  roved  restlessly.  His 
dress  of  tanned  buckskin  was  ornamented  with  beads 
and  trinkets ;  and  one  side  of  his  broad-rimmed  hat 
was  pinned  up  with  a  brooch  of  gold  —  while  over 
the  other  side  drooped  a  black  plume.  Besides  the 
handsome  rifle  that  he  carried,  he  was  armed  with  a 
brace  of  silver-mounted  pistols  and  a  jewel-hilted 
dagger. 

On  entering  the  presence  of  our  friends,  he  walk- 
ed up  to  Silverheels  and,  taking  the  latter's  hand, 
said  cordially: 

"  My  Shawnee  friend,  many  months  have  passed 
since  last  I  saw  you.  At  that  time,  you  saved  my 
life  when  your  own  tribe  sought  to  take  it.  I  need 
not  recall  the  circumstance.  Now  I  may  be  able  to 
repay  the  debt.  At  any  rate  I  will  make  the  attempt. 
These  are  your  friends  ?  " 

"  Ugh !  "  grunted  Silverheels,  stooping  to  rescue 
a  slice  of  venison  that  had  dropped  upon  the  coals. 

Black  Jacques  turned  to  Paul  and  abruptly  de- 
manded his  name. 

"  Paul  Graydon,"  the  young  Englishman  an- 
swered, half  amused  at  the  other's  brusque  manner. 

"  I  find  you  in  trouble.  Tell  me  why  you  are 
here.  The  Indians  have  given  me  their  version  of 
the  affair." 

Paul  complied  with  the  fur-trader's  request,  giv- 
ing a  terse  but  graphic  account  of  the  attack  upon 
Big  Bottom,  and  subsequent  events.  When  the 


404  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

young  man  had  finished,  Black  Jacques  nodded  his 
head  vigorously  several  times,  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders and  replied: 

"  Very  good.  But  what  motive  had  the  outlaw  in 
leading  the  Indians  against  the  settlement?  " 

Paul  explained  fully,  concealing  nothing.  The 
fur-trader  plied  his  questions  as  one  having  author- 
ity, and  the  other  did  not  think  of  refusing  to  an- 
swer. As  the  young  man  concluded,  Black  Jacques's 
eyes  emitted  sparks  of  anger  and  his  chest  heaved 
with  suppressed  emotion.  He  exclaimed  hoarsely: 

"  Red  Wallace !  the  infernal  scoundrel !  I  know 
him  —  know  him  well.  A  merciless  knave!  But 
he  has  overshot  the  mark  this  time.  He  has  tried 
double-dealing  with  the  Indians.  He  lies  a  prisoner 
in  the  village ;  and  they  will  burn  him  at  the  stake. 
Little's  the  pity !  It  will  be  a  good  riddance.  Young 
man,  you  say  your  name  is  Paul  Graydon?" 

"  My  name  is  Paul  Graydon." 

"  You  are  an  American  ?  " 

"  I  am  an  Englishman  by  birth ;  but  I  have  spent 
my  life  in  Virginia." 

"  Ah ! " 

A  scowl  of  dislike  clouded  the  fur-trader's  leath- 
ery face.  He  went  on  slowly : 

"  And  /  am  a  Frenchman ;  and  I  owe  nothing  to 
the  English  and  Virginians  but  hate.  The  great  sor- 
row of  my  life  lies  in  the  fact  that  I  once  visited 
Virginia.  Who  —  who  is  this  young  woman  ?  " 

At  that  moment  Marie,  who  had  been  standing  in 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  405 

the  shadow,  moved  forward  into  the  full  light  of  the 
fire.  The  Frenchman  started  back  as  he  caught 
sight  of  her  face ;  and  stammeringly  asked  the  ques- 
tion. 

"  This  is  the  young  woman  who  was  kidnaped," 
Paul  explained. 

"  Yes  —  yes ;  I  know.  But  who  is  she  —  where  is 
she  from  ?  " 

The  fur-trader  was  becoming  more  and  more  agi- 
tated. He  stared  so  hard  at  Marie  that  her  eyes  fell 
and  her  cheeks  flushed.  Her  heart  was  beating 
wildly.  She  was  strangely  moved  —  she  did  not 
know  why.  Paul  was  half  angry  at  what  he  con- 
sidered the  Frenchman's  bold  admiration  of  the 
golden-haired  girl;  and  it  was  with  scant  courtesy 
that  he  replied : 

"  She,  too,  comes  from  Virginia ;  but  what  can  it 
matter  to  you  ?  " 

"  Much  or  little ! "  Black  Jacques  cried  excitedly. 
Then,  taking  a  step  forward,  he  faced  Marie  and 
commanded : 

"  Tell  me  the  truth,  girl  —  tell  me  naught  but  the 
truth!  You  are  from  Virginia?" 

"  I  am,"  Marie  answered  quietly,  stepping  a  little 
nearer  to  Paul. 

"  From  the  Shenandoah !  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  your  name  —  quick,  tell  me  your  name !  " 

"  Marie  Fontanelle." 

The  leathery  face  became  the  color  of  old  parch- 


406  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

ment.  Black  Jacques  stood  with  staring  eyes  and 
parted  lips,  trying  to  speak.  But  no  sound  issued 
from  his  throat.  At  last  he  found  voice  to  say  fal- 
teringly : 

"  Your  —  your  mother  is  Ruth  —  Meeks !  " 

"  Yes,"  Marie  replied  wonderingly,  "  but  she  is 
dead  —  she  died  at  my  birth." 

"  Dead  —  dead !  "  he  murmured  brokenly,  as  he 
bowed  his  head. 

Paul  placed  an  arm  around  the  trembling  form 
of  his  sweetheart,  and  regarded  the  Frenchman 
askance.  The  young  Englishman  thought  the  other 
daft.  Gumbo,  with  open  mouth,  took  in  every- 
thing that  was  done  and  said,  and  —  for  a  wonder  — 
kept  silent.  The  Shawnee  coolly  went  on  cooking 
venison,  glancing  from  the  corners  of  his  eyes,  at 
the  others,  without  turning  his  head. 

"  And  your  father  was  Jacques  Fontanelle,  a 
French  fur-trader! " 

It  was  the  Frenchman  who  spoke.  Marie  started 
and  cried  eagerly : 

"  Yes  —  yes !  Have  you  known  him  ?  Tell  me 
of  him." 

Very  softly,  very  earnestly,  he  answered : 

"  Dear  child,  /  am  Jacques  Fontanelle  —  /  am 
your  father! " 

"  What !  "  was  the  exclamation  that  burst  from 
Paul's  lips. 

With  the  explosive  expression  —  "  Fo'  de  good 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  407 

•'d's  sake !  "  —  Gumbo  took  a  step  backward,  al- 
most tumbling  over  the  kneeling  form  of  Silverheels. 

"  You  cannot  mean  it !  "  Marie  murmured,  with 
one  hand  pressed  to  her  heart.  "  You,  my  father?  " 

"  Yes !  Let  me  prove  to  you  that  I  am  Jacques 
Fontanelle.  Here  is  a  lock  of  your  mother's  hair 
that  I  have  carried  with  me  all  the  years  since  last  I 
saw  her.  In  color  and  texture,  it  matches  your  own. 
You  are  the  image  of  your  mother,  my  child.  But 
your  disposition  is  French.  I  was  struck  by  the 
marked  resemblance,  as  soon  as  I  saw  you.  You 
know  the  tragedy  of  your  parents'  lives.  I  wan- 
dered into  the  Shenandoah  valley;  met  and  loved 
your  mother,  who  was  as  beautiful  as  yourself.  I 
married  her.  But  when  her  relatives  ascertained 
that  I  was  a  despised  Frenchman,  I  was  com- 
pelled to  flee  for  my  life.  I  left  behind  me  my  wife 
and  unborn  child,  and  returned  to  the  lonely  and 
hazardous  life  of  a  fur-trader  among  the  Indians. 
Knowing  that  your  mother's  brothers  —  your  un- 
cles, Isaac,  John  and  others  —  were  ready  and  anx- 
ious to  slay  me,  I  never  dared  to  return  to  the  valley. 
I,  who  have  courage  enough  to  brave  the  dangers 
of  the  wilderness,  have  been  too  cowardly  to  face 
the  men  who  unjustly  deprived  me  of  all  I  held 
dear !  " 

This  last  sentence  he  uttered  with  great  bitter- 
ness and  scorn.  He  continued: 

"  How  I  have  suffered  no  one  but  my  God  knows ! 
Sleeping  and  waking,  your  mothei's  tearful  face 


408  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R 

has  been  before  me.  A  thousand  times  I  have  re- 
solved to  go  back  —  to  risk  all  for  a  glimpse  of  her. 
Each  time  fear  overcame  me  —  with  shame  I  con- 
fess it!  I  have  made  a  fortune  in  the  fur  trade. 
But  until  this  hour  it  has  meant  nothing  to  me.  Now 
—  now  —  " 

His  voice  faltered  and  broke.  Tears  came  to 
his  eyes  and  trickled  down  his  leathery  cheeks. 
Stretching  forth  his  arms,  he  sobbed : 

"  Marie,  my  child,  will  you  not  come  to  me  ?  " 

She  was  trembling  like  a  leaf,  as  she  looked  up 
into  Paul's  face  for  counsel.  His  voice  choked  with 
emotion,  he  said: 

"  He  is  your  father !  " 

With  a  glad  cry,  she  sprang  into  the  outstretched 
arms ;  and  for  the  first  time  Jacques  Fontanelle  held 
his  child  to  his  heart  —  sobbing  until  his  wiry  frame 
shook.  Then  he  lifted  her  head  and  kissed  her  again 
and  again;  and,  holding  her  at  arm's  length,  mur- 
mured softly : 

"  How  like  your  mother  —  how  like  your 
mother !  " 

Gumbo  was  wild  with  delight.     He  danced  and 
capered  around  the  cave,  to  the  infinite  disgust  of 
the  dignified  Shawnee,  who  regarded  him  in  much 
the  same  way  that  a  sedate  mastiff  regards  a  sporti 
poodle. 

"  Kiyi !  "  the  darky  shouted.  "  If  dis  nigger  isn't 
eberlastin'ly  an'  redickerlously  kerflummixed,  den  he 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  409 

doesn't  know  hisse'f  —  dat's  all!  Lawzee!  but  ol' 
Gumbo  jes'  feels  like  shoutin'  halleluyer !  " 

Paul,  his  sweetheart,  and  her  father  seated  them- 
selves upon  the  stone  floor  and  conversed  in  low 
tones.  The  noon  hour  was  forgotten.  They  talked 
of  the  past  and  made  plans  for  the  future,  forget- 
ting that  they  were  still  in  the  heart  of  the  wilder- 
ness, surrounded  by  savage  foes.  Marie  shyly  told 
her  father  that  she  loved  Paul  and  was  his  affianced 
wife. 

"  You  shall  have  the  man  of  your  choice,  my 
daughter,  even  though  that  man  is  an  Englishman," 
Jacques  Fontanelle  said,  smiling  sadly ;  "  and  if  love 
and  wealth  count  for  aught,  you  shall  be  happy." 

Then  directing  his  words  to  Paul,  he  continued: 

"  I  must  go  now  to  plead  your  cause  with  the  In- 
dians. You  and  your  companions  have  slain  a  num- 
ber of  their  young  men ;  and  the  savages  thirst  for 
revenge.  But  I  have  great  influence  with  them.  I 
have  traded  with  them  for  years,  and  have  befriend- 
ed them  in  many  ways;  I  shall  find  some  way  to 
win  them  from  their  purpose.  Keep  close  in  the 
cave ;  do  nothing  to  incite  the  red  men  to  renew  the 
attack.  I  shall  return  to  you  as  soon  as  I  have  ar- 
ranged matters  with  the  chiefs  of  the  tribes." 

He  spoke  a  few  words  to  Silverheels  in  the  Shaw- 
nee  tongue,  and  left  the  cavern.  Hour  after  hour 
passed.  Our  friends  partook  of  the  meat  the  Shaw- 
nee  had  cooked,  and  anxiously  awaited  the  return  of 
Marie's  father.  The  sun  sank  behind  the  western 


410  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

hills ;  and  the  stars  again  peeped  into  the  wooded 
valley.  But  Jacques  Fontanelle  came  not.  Gumbo 
leaned  against  the  rough  wall  and  tenderly  nursed 
his  broken  arm.  Paul  and  Marie,  in  feverish 
anxiety,  paced  the  uneven  floor;  and  Silverheels 
moodily  sat  by  the  fire,  stirring  the  warm  ashes 
with  the  toe  of  his  moccasin.  At  last  a  step  was 
heard;  and  the  next  moment  the  fur-trader  was 
among  them.  Throwing  upon  the  smouldering  fire 
the  torch  he  carried,  he  said  cheerily: 

"  It  took  time,  but  my  persuasive  powers  proved 
irresistible.  A  liberal  supply  of  ammunition,  blank- 
ets, and  trinkets,  helped  me  to  convince  them  that 
you  have  been  sinned  against  more  than  you  have 
sinned.  Come,  let's  join  my  men  in  the  village. 
The  Indians  have  granted  me  the  privilege  of  using 
the  council  lodge,  until  I  am  through  trading  with 
them.  We'll  take  up  our  quarters  there  until  we  are 
ready  to  start  for  Detroit." 

"  Detroit  ?  "  Paul  interrupted. 

"  Yes,  my  home  is  there ;  and  you  and  my  daugh- 
ter are  to  accompany  me  to  that  place.  Your  black 
companion  goes  with  you.  As  for  your  red  friend, 
Silverheels  "  —  and  the  fur-trader  turned  toward 
the  Shawnee  —  "he  returns  to  his  lodge  upon  the 
Moose  Eye.  He  understands  all.  He  would  not  be 
safe  in  the  village  of  his  enemies,  and  he  does  not 
care  to  lower  his  dignity  by  going  there.  Silver- 
heels,  here  is  the  ammunition  I  promised  to  bring 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  411 

you.  Ere  the  sun  rises,  you  will  be  many  miles 
from  here.  I  bid  you  farewell." 

Jacques  Fontanelle  took  a  brand  from  the  fire, 
swung  it  around  his  head  until  it  burst  into  flame, 
and,  with  the  words,  "  Follow  me,"  strode  toward 
the  passage  leading  to  the  ravine.  Paul  and  Marie 
waited  to  bid  Silverheels  good-by ;  but  the  Shawnee 
muttered :  "  Not  yet ;  I  go  a  short  distance  with 
you." 

When  the  party  reached  the  middle  of  the  pass- 
age, the  Shawnee  came  to  a  sudden  halt  and  said : 

"  Here  we  part.  White  Eagle  and  the  blue-eyed 
maiden  return  to  their  people ;  the  Shawnee  goes 
back  to  his  lonely  lodge  upon  the  Bald  Eagle. 
Should  we  meet  no  more  beneath  the  bright  skies 
and  by  the  rippling  waters,  we  may  meet  no  more 
forever;  for  the  God  of  the  paleface  is  not  the  red- 
man's  God.  Be  that  as  it  may,  the  heart  of  Silver- 
heels  is  glad  that  he  has  known  and  loved  White 
Eagle.  When  the  Shawnee  sits  by  the  red  embers 
on  a  winter  night,  and  hears  the  whistling  blast 
among  the  trees,  he  will  think  of  his  white  brother ; 
and  when  the  wild  flowers  again  cover  hillside  and 
valley,  the  Shawnee's  heart  will  be  grieved  that 
White  Eagle  is  far  away.  My  white  brother,  fare- 
well!" 

He  took  leave  of  Gumbo,  Marie  and  her  father 
first.  The  young  woman  wrung  his  hand  and  bade 
him  a  tearful  good-by.  Then  he  caught  Paul's  hand 
in  a  viselike  grip  and  clung  to  it  as  though  he  could 


412  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

not  let  it  go.  Paul  could  scarcely  murmur  his  thanks 
for  all  the  other  had  done  for  him. 

Quickly  Silverheels  dropped  the  young  man's 
hand;  and,  squeezing  his  body  through  a  narrow 
cleft  in  the  wall,  was  gone.  He  had  taken  the  secret 
outlet,  of  which  he  had  told  his  white  friend,  and 
of  which  no  human  being  but  himself  knew. 

The  others  accompanied  the  fur-trader  to  the  In- 
dian village  and  joined  his  men  in  the  council  lodge. 
There  they  found  an  abundance  of  food  and  a  com- 
fortable place  to  sleep.  Paul  had  his  wounds  dressed 
by  one  of  the  French  Canadians,  who  possessed 
some  skill  in  surgery,  and  Gumbo  had  his  broken 
arm  splintered  and  bandaged. 

For  three  days,  Jacques  Fontanelle  and  his  party 
remained  in  the  village  of  the  Delawares  and  Wyan- 
dots,  trading  blankets,  ammunition,  beads  and  trink- 
ets of  many  kinds,  for  peltries.  On  the  day  of  their 
departure  for  Detroit,  occurred  an  incident  that  is 
worth  recording.  The  pack-horses  were  drawn  up 
in  line;  the  saddle-horses  stood  ready,  when  an  In- 
dian slipped  to  the  Frenchman's  side  and  told  him 
Red  Wallace  wished  to  see  him  and  his  daughter  be- 
fore they  left  the  village. 

With  some  surprise  and  perturbation,  the  fur- 
trader  took  Marie  by  the  hand  and  led  her  to  the  hut 
where  the  outlaw  was  confined.  They  found  him 
lying  upon  the  bare  ground  in  a  corner  of  the  small 
room.  His  long,  red  hair  was  matted  around  his 
forehead  and  temples.  His  flabby  face  had  lost  its 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  413 

ruddy  glow  and  was  pale  and  cadaverous.  The  cor- 
ners of  his  sensual  mouth  drooped  and  his  sunken 
eyes  told  of  his  base  and  cowardly  fear  of  death. 

The  Indian  who  brought  the  father  and  daughter 
stood  on  guard  at  the  door,  while  they  were  within. 

"  Come,  fellow,  be  brisk,"  was  Jacques  Fon- 
tanelle's  curt  greeting ;  "  we  have  no  time  to  waste 
on  such  as  you." 

Wallace  fastened  his  hollow  eyes  upon  Marie's 
face,  but  said  nothing: 

"  What  do  you  want  ? "  the  fur-trader  asked 
gruffly. 

"  Save  me  —  save  me !  They  will  bum  me  at  the 
stake  I  "  gasped  the  cringing  wretch. 

"  Is  that  all  you  want  ?  We  can  do  nothing  for 
you  —  that  you  well  know.  Come,  my  daughter." 

"  Mercy !  "  the  white  lips  whispered. 

"  You  deserve  no  mercy !  What  mercy  have  you 
shown  to  others?"  Jacques  Fontanelle  coolly  re- 
plied. 

He  plucked  Marie  by  the  arm  and  started  toward 
the  door.  She  hesitated,  and  murmured  the  one 
word— "Father!" 

"Well,  child?" 

"  Stand  in  the  door  and  engage  the  Indian's  atten- 
tion ;  I  wish  to  speak  to  this  man." 

"  Very  well ;  but  hurry." 

As  soon  as  her  father  had  planted  himself  in  the 
doorway,  with  his  back  toward  her,  she  quickly  drew 
from  the  bosom  of  her  tattered  gown  the  dagger  she 


414  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

had  carried  there  for  days.  With  a  single  sweep, 
she  severed  the  thongs  that  bound  the  renegade's 
wrists ;  and,  dropping  the  knife  by  his  side,  mur- 
mured : 

"  I  return  to  you  your  weapon.  Brutal,  cowardly 
murderer  that  you  are,  you  shall  have  a  chance  to 
fight  for  your  life !  " 

Before  he  could  recover  from  his  surprise,  she  had 
passed  from  the  cabin  with  her  father.  Keeping  the 
divided  cords  about  his  wrists,  and  rolling  over  up- 
on the  knife  to  conceal  it,  Wallace  lay  perfectly 
quiet  while  the  Indian  guard  came  in  and  inspected 
the  interior.  After  a  cursory  examination,  the  red- 
man  withdrew.  Two  hours  later,  when  he  again 
entered  the  hut,  he  found  the  outlaw  a  corpse. 
Feeling  that  final  escape  from  the  Indians  was  im- 
possible, and  fearing  that  death  at  the  stake  was 
inevitable,  Red  Wallace  had  plunged  his  dagger  into 
his  own  heart! 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

THE  warp  has  been  laid ;  the  woof  is  completed ; 
and  but  a  few  scattered  threads  remain  to  be 
gathered  and  knotted. 

Two  weeks  after  their  arrival  in  Detroit,  Paul  and 
Marie  were  quietly  married.  Jacques  Fontanelle 
was  a  wealthy  and  liberal  man,  and  wished  to  cele- 
brate the  marriage  of  his  only  child  as  befitted  her 
station ;  but  Marie  would  not  have  it  so.  And  Ma- 
rie's word  was  law  in  the  household. 

Paul  prepared  to  engage  in  the  fur-trade  with 
his  father-in-law ;  but  soon  the  atmosphere  along 
the  border  was  pulsating  with  the  pent  power  of 
the  coming  conflict  between  the  white  and  red  races ; 
and  the  fur  trade  was  unprofitable  and  unsafe. 
Black  Jacques,  with  a  lifelong  experience  of  Indian 
treachery  and  cruelty,  decided  that  there  was  noth- 
ing to  do  but  to  stay  quietly  in  Detroit  until  the 
war  was  over. 

There  our  friends  remained  for  several  years. 
During  all  this  time  they  heard  little  of  Marietta  and 
the  valley  of  the  Muskingum,  and  nothing  of  Hester 
Lovelace.  At  last,  there  came  a  letter  from  a  lawyer 
in  Virginia  —  who  had  learned  Graydon's  address 
from  a  Virginian,  who  had  returned  from  Detroit  to 

<4is) 


416  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

his  native  heath  —  stating  that  the  young  English- 
man's cousin  had  died  intestate,  and  requesting  him 
to  come  home  immediately  and  enter  into  possession 
of  the  vast  property  that  was  rightfully  and  legally 
his. 

Jacques  Fontanelle  determined  to  dispose  of  his 
possessions  and  take  up  his  residence  with  his  chil- 
dren and  grandchildren  in  the  valley  of  the  Shen- 
andoah.  One  beautiful  spring  day  they  set  out 
upon  their  long  journey,  provided  with  an  ample 
escort  for  their  comfort  and  safety.  They  went 
by  way  of  Marietta,  arriving  there  after  a  weari- 
some journey  of  many  days.  In  the  thriving  village 
upon  the  banks  of  the  Ohio  and  Moose  Eye,  Paul 
learned  of  the  fate  of  Hester. 

While  Red  Wallace  was  gone  upon  his  final  mis- 
sion to  the  Delawares  and  Wyandots,  in  burning 
expectancy  she  waited  for  the  consummation  of  her 
vengeance.  Day  by  day,  when  recovering  from  a 
violent  attack  of  coughing,  she  would  wipe  the 
bloody  froth  from  her  pallid  lips,  and  whisper : 

'  Oh,  that  he  would  hurry !  I  fear  that  I  shall 
die  ere  my  stroke  of  vengeance  falls !  " 

At  last,  came  the  news  of  the  massacre  at  Big 
Bottom  —  the  startling  tidings  that  surprised  and 
horrified  everyone  but  herself.  Mr.  Gosney  and 
good  wife,  with  whom  she  lived,  were  frightened; 
and  with  many  others  sought  safety  within  the  shel- 
tering walls  of  Campus  Martius.  When  they 
begged  her  to  accompany  them,  she  sneeringly  re- 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLA1R  417 

fused.  None  knew  so  well  as  she  that  no  attack 
would  be  made  upon  Marietta.  Alone  she  sat  by  the 
fire  in  the  cabin,  and  chuckled  and  muttered  in  dia- 
bolical glee : 

;  Tis  done !  She  is  lost  to  him  forever !  I  am 
revenged  upon  him.  He  has  gone  to  search  for  her ; 
and  he  will  return  a  broken-hearted  man.  Ah! 
sweet  is  revenge!  When  he  comes  to  me  to  seek 
consolation  —  as  he  will  —  I  shall  mock  him ;  for  I 
hate  him  —  I  hate  him !  No  —  no !  God  help  me ! 
I  love  him  still  I  " 

She  bowed  her  face  upon  her  transparent  hands 
and  was  silent  for  some  moments.  Then  she  con- 
tinued to  commune  with  herself: 

"  'Tis  done  —  but  at  what  a  cost !  The  guilt  of 
murder  rests  upon  my  soul.  No!  he  alone  is  to 
blame!  Paul  is  to  blame.  He  drove  me  to  mad- 
ness. I  was  mad  —  mad!  And  I'm  in  that  base 
renegade's  power  —  I  must  marry  him.  Marry 
him  ?  No !  No !  I  shall  escape  him.  A  few  short 
weeks  and  I  shall  be  the  bride  of  Death !  And  must 
I  lose  Paul,  after  all!  Oh!  empty,  worthless  and 
pitiable  vengeance  is,  when  the  heart  is  starving 
for  love !  "  And  she  burst  into  a  fit  of  weeping. 

"  Lost  —  lost !  "  she  muttered.  "  I  have  played 
the  game  through  and  have  lost  all.  It  is  all  false. 
My  revenge  is  false  —  bitter  and  false.  No  —  it's 
not  so!  I  am  happy  —  I  am  elated  —  I  am  in  an 
ecstacy  of  delight!  Have  I  not  accomplished  my 
27 


418  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

purpose?  God  help  me!  I  cannot  deceive  myself 
—  I  am  wretched,  friendless,  alone !  " 

She  arose  and  glanced  hurriedly  around,  as 
though  expecting  some  dread  presence. 

"  I  must  hurry  —  I  must  escape !  "  she  faintly 
whispered.  "  Wallace  will  be  here  soon  to  claim 
his  own.  When  he  comes  I  must  be  gone.  And 
I  shall  never  see  Paul  again !  I  am  going  back 
home  —  to  the  dear  old  home  —  to  die !  " 

A  few  days  later,  notwithstanding  the  protesta- 
tions of  her  friends,  she  joined  a  small  party  of  re- 
turning emigrants ;  and,  consuming  with  feverish 
haste  and  excitement,  set  out  for  home.  But  she 
was  not  again  permitted  to  see  the  sun  rise  above 
the  tops  of  the  Blue  Ridge  and  light  up  the  grand 
old  valley  of  the  Shenandoah.  One  night  her  party 
stopped  at  a  little  wayside  tavern  in  the  mountains. 
Before  morning,  she  was  taken  with  a  profuse  hem- 
orrhage, and  died.  Her  kind-hearted  companions 
buried  her  in  a  lonely  place  upon  the  mountain 
side;  and  pushed  on  toward  their  destination. 
Years  afterward,  Paul  Graydon  found  her  grave 
and  marked  the  spot  with  a  marble  shaft.  Poor 

Hester  Lovelace! 

******* 

When  Jacques  Fontanelle  and  his  party  arrived 
in  Marietta,  Marie  hurried  to  the  blockhouse,  ex- 
pecting to  find  her  friend  still  there.  What  was  her 
disappointment  to  learn  that  Governor  St.  Clair  and 
his  children  had  gone  back  to  their  farm  in  Penn- 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR  41$ 

sylvania !  The  old  soldier,  defeated  and  disgraced, 
and  openly  scorned  by  those  who  once  had  fawned 
upon  him,  had  retired  to  the  privacy  of  his  home, 
a  broken  man. 

For  years  after  her  mother  died,  Louise  was  her 
father's  housekeeper,  his  adviser  and  comforter. 
Long  years  after  the  time  of  which  we  write,  she 
and  Marie  again  met  and  renewed  their  early  friend- 
ship. 

Paul  found  Prince,  his  noble  black  horse,  in  the 
keeping  of  Colonel  Sproat,  where  Governor  St.  Clair 
had  placed  the  animal.  It  was  hard  to  tell  which 
was  more  overjoyed  at  the  meeting  —  the  horse  or 
his  master. 

Xo  one  could  give  our  friends  tidings  of  Silver- 
heels.  For  a  time  after  his  return  from  the  Tusca- 
ravvas,  he  occupied  his  lodge  upon  the  Moose  Eye  at 
the  Mouth  of  the  Bald  Eagle.  When  the  Indian 
war  came  on,  he  disappeared;  and,  at  the  time  of 
their  visit  to  Marietta,  he  had  not  returned.  It  was 
a  source  of  bitter  disappointment  to  Paul,  that  he 
could  not  again  meet  his  red  brother  ere  leaving  the 
Northwest  Territory,  for  Virginia. 

If  —  as  local  tradition  records  —  the  Shawnee  at 
last  came  back  to  the  bonny  Muskingum,  to  wreak 
his  vengeance  upon  those  who  had  buffeted  and 
debased  him,  it  but  shows  one  side  of  his  red  nature ; 
and  if  he  stoically  met  death  at  the  hands  of  a 
cowardly  assassin,  it  reveals  another.  The  incon- 


420  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ST.  CLAIR 

trovertible  fact  remains,  that  he  never  forgot  a 
friend  nor  forgave  an  enemy.  He  had  in  him  the 
blood  of  two  races  —  but  he  was  a  Shawnee ! 


(THE  END.) 


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